Lyrics Whiskey Tango Foxtrot.lrc Youngblood Brass Band
[id: wnrzbfxw]
[ar: Youngblood Brass Band]
[al: Pax Volumi]
[ti: Whiskey Tango Foxtrot]
[length: 05:44]
[00:25.21]Ight?”)
[00:47.79]On the grid
[00:49.01]Got a government contract to overcharge — no bid
[00:52.02]Less and less of us living large — no shit
[00:54.20]A lesson plan about cutting art — blow kiss
[00:56.73]I love the way you say it’s for the kids — quote this:
[00:59.15]I love the way you make it fully legit
[01:01.70]Cause you got a television bully pulpit
[01:04.02]What’d the pope say?
[01:04.93]Jesus never asked a leper for a co-pay
[01:07.25]One for the money
[01:08.42]Two for the… (what?) money
[01:09.76]Are you a senator?
[01:10.80]You for the money
[01:12.09]We lose all the money
[01:13.15]”The truth or the money”
[01:14.28]”The youth are the money”
[01:15.49]We stupid for money
[01:16.85]Is it clear enough?
[01:17.94]”Yeah, but it ain’t weird enough.”
[01:19.14]Ya-ya-ya-ya, ya-ya, ya-ya, poof, fixed!
[01:21.74]”I love cynical, senseless, selfish tricks” —
[01:24.44]Now it sounds like America, sick!
[01:26.68]Let’s bow our heads and pray our teachers don’t get raises
[01:30.94]Let’s pray our children get degrees that cost what spaceships do
[01:37.91]America, you’re so cool
[01:43.07](All for one, all for one, all for one…)
[01:45.62]All for more bravado
[01:47.92]The chart leads to the delta, echoing across the gulf
[01:51.74]A hotel in diaspora’s best slum, where Juliet runs drugs by the kilo
[01:56.56]Leave the mic alone
[01:58.37]No embers or scars
[01:59.99]Give me the flame, but no plot?
[02:02.18]Whiskey tango foxtrot?!
[02:06.02]America, why the long face?
[02:09.42]So we broke our vows
[02:11.08]So failure tagged us ‘it,’
[02:12.58]The mortal pang in Stanley Kunitz’ flaming wheel of bones.
[02:15.50]You made us run amok
[02:17.10]You made us grab the largest pieces of metal and froth and clang
[02:20.26]So what good is lyric, Orpheus?
[02:22.43]What good the nail?
[02:23.76]What notes now?
[02:24.92]”Get off of it!” I admit, I’m a bit unruly
[02:29.35]Ignore UN rulings when a country’ll sue me
[02:31.65]Here’s a cheerleader secret for you pom-pom heads:
[02:33.88]’Is that a riot?’ is just something that my mom says
[02:36.27](Oh, shit, Judy!) Signed yours, truly
[02:38.66]News flash: you can’t cover your chemo?
[02:40.77]Move fast to where they care about people
[02:43.26]For real, though, I love all the music we make
[02:45.22]I love the beautiful states
[02:46.61]I love hip-hop and rock
[02:47.85]I love the usual things
[02:48.94]I love my black tube socks
[02:50.28]I love drum line, drum corps, drum trolls, drum war
[02:52.75]Drum rolls, drum lore, kids that want to drum more
[02:55.19]Shadow on my wrist, battle EQ with a fist
[02:57.62]Like “ba-goo-ba-goo-ba-goo ju-ju-ju gock!”
[03:00.58]It doesn’t matter if we kill their dreams
[03:02.03]Our most beaten-down always go and steal the scene, so:
[03:05.18]Let’s bow our heads and pray the poor will keep enlisting
[03:09.35]Thank God we’re sending them to war to fight for CEOs
[03:15.93]America, I thought we were bros?
[03:21.07](Hit hard, hit hard, hit hard…)
[03:23.87]Hit up a Quebecois hospital
[03:26.25]When in Rome, explode
[03:28.36]See no error
[03:29.56]A unified form, poorly fitted
[03:31.75]To the victor goes the gilded cow
[03:33.56]An ex-marine denied pension
[03:35.62]All chains yanked
[03:37.59]For your service, you lose.
[03:39.23](You lose! Hit me!)
[03:41.75]Whiskey tango foxtrot?!
[03:45.54]America, no one can beat you in gun crime
[03:49.08]No one can touch you in musical revolutions
[03:51.83]But your kids aren’t that bright
[03:53.42]And you eat like shit.
[03:55.14]You made our hearts’ cadence wed the off- and back-beat
[03:57.80]So that their swaying hips wouldn’t arouse suspicion farther north
[04:00.68]You created colloquialisms that mean the opposite of their literal definition
[04:04.57]And then made that policy an international platform:
[04:07.82]An exchange for merit
[04:10.03]A bartering professional, a ‘charm offensive,’
[04:11.92]And a hearse for every ode.
[04:14.11]America, our concertmaster
[04:16.09]You must conduct yourself from that gloriously-out-of-tune piano
[04:18.91]The soloist is stoned
[04:20.53]Othar Turner says “heap see, but mighty few know.’
[04:24.17]While the world makes flesh of flesh, we etch our names in gold.
[04:27.75]We fetch our flaming bones…
[04:30.42]We fetch our flaming bones…
[04:33.52]We fetch our flaming bones…
[04:45.18]Let’s bow our heads and pray that science is a put-on.
[04:47.69]Let’s pray that clarity of thought is just a passing fad.
[04:50.40]America, who’s your dad?
[04:52.13]Let’s bow our heads and pray we privatize the whole thing
[04:55.06](Oh sea, can you say…
[04:56.76]If you want your mail delivered now, you’re going to have to pay
[04:57.79]…”die by brawn’s surly might?”)
[04:58.32]Let’s make this shit a feudal estate
[04:58.88]Let’s bow our heads…
[04:59.78]Let’s bow our heads…
[05:00.66]Let’s bow our heads…
[05:01.23]Let’s bow our heads…
[05:01.83](Oh sea, can you say…
[05:03.54]Let’s bow our heads and say a prayer tonight:
[05:07.97]…”die by brawn’s surly might?”)
[05:08.95]My cool America
[05:13.59](Oh sea, can you say…
[05:14.18]I’m still in love with you…
[05:19.63]…”die by brawn’s surly might?”)
[05:20.16](Oh sea, can you say “die by brawn’s surly might?”)
[05:29.50](Oh sea, can you say “die by brawn’s surly might?”)
[05:40.37]Year of Release: 2013