Youngblood Brass Band - Whiskey Tango Foxtrot | Текст песни

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• Youngblood Brass Band
• Whiskey Tango Foxtrot

(Oh sea, can you say "die by brawn's surly might?")

On the grid
Got a government contract to overcharge -- no bid
Less and less of us living large -- no shit
A lesson plan about cutting art -- blow kiss
I love the way you say it's for the kids -- quote this:
I love the way you make it fully legit
Cause you got a television bully pulpit
What'd the pope say?
Jesus never asked a leper for a co-pay

One for the money
Two for the... (what?) money
Are you a senator?
You for the money
We lose all the money
"The truth or the money"
"The youth are the money"
We stupid for money

Is it clear enough?
"Yeah, but it ain't weird enough."
Ya-ya-ya-ya, ya-ya, ya-ya, poof, fixed!
"I love cynical, senseless, selfish tricks" --
Now it sounds like America, sick!

Let's bow our heads and pray our teachers don't get raises
Let's pray our children get degrees that cost what spaceships do
America, you're so cool

(All for one, all for one, all for one...)

All for more bravado
The chart leads to the delta, echoing across the gulf
A hotel in diaspora's best slum, where Juliet runs drugs by the kilo
Leave the mic alone
No embers or scars
Give me the flame, but no plot?
Whiskey tango foxtrot?!

America, why the long face?
So we broke our vows
So failure tagged us 'it,'
The mortal pang in Stanley Kunitz' flaming wheel of bones.
You made us run amok
You made us grab the largest pieces of metal and froth and clang
So what good is lyric, Orpheus?
What good the nail?
What notes now?

"Get off of it!" I admit, I'm a bit unruly
Ignore UN rulings when a country'll sue me
Here's a cheerleader secret for you pom-pom heads:
'Is that a riot?' is just something that my mom says
(Oh, shit, Judy!) Signed yours, truly
News flash: you can't cover your chemo?
Move fast to where they care about people
For real, though, I love all the music we make
I love the beautiful states
I love hip-hop and rock
I love the usual things
I love my black tube socks
I love drum line, drum corps, drum trolls, drum war
Drum rolls, drum lore, kids that want to drum more
Shadow on my wrist, battle EQ with a fist
Like "ba-goo-ba-goo-ba-goo ju-ju-ju gock!"
It doesn't matter if we kill their dreams
Our most beaten-down always go and steal the scene, so:

Let's bow our heads and pray the poor will keep enlisting
Thank God we're sending them to war to fight for CEOs
America, I thought we were bros?

(Hit hard, hit hard, hit hard...)

Hit up a Quebecois hospital
When in Rome, explode
See no error
A unified form, poorly fitted
To the victor goes the gilded cow
An ex-marine denied pension
All chains yanked
For your service, you lose.
(You lose! Hit me!)
Whiskey tango foxtrot?!

America, no one can beat you in gun crime
No one can touch you in musical revolutions
But your kids aren't that bright
And you eat like shit.
You made our hearts' cadence wed the off- and back-beat
So that their swaying hips wouldn't arouse suspicion farther north
You created colloquialisms that mean the opposite of their literal definition
And then made that policy an international platform:
An exchange for merit
A bartering professional, a 'charm offensive,'
And a hearse for every ode.
America, our concertmaster
You must conduct yourself from that gloriously-out-of-tune piano
The soloist is stoned
Othar Turner says "heap see, but mighty few know.'
While the world makes flesh of flesh, we etch our names in gold.
We fetch our flaming bones...
We fetch our flaming bones...
We fetch our flaming bones...

Let's bow our heads and pray that science is a put-on.
Let's pray that c

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