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letra de happy september 11th - mc paul barman

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yo, is this supposed to be some sort of national holiday or something?
what do you say on that horrible anniversary?
you can’t be sad, it’s just like another day
the lunar calendar’s more accurate anyway
check it out

happy september eleven
remember the dismembered in heaven
betrayers hit paydirt
when they portray the patriot as traitor
they cater to a denominator so uncommonly low
they don’t even notice the economy’s slow
they eat genocide and fart brown brimstone
people who’re still smiling got down’s syndrome

with pepe le pew at least the flowers re-grew
where bush walks trees fall, i thought you knew
the man of the house handed his spouse and sons
land in canada so put cash on the list
nationalists are just euphemized racists
and should be tried by a jury of euthanized rapists
but the nuremburg trials are a burden we haven’t heard from in a while
the twenty dollar bill’s just subliminal denial
that andrew jackson’s a war criminal-o-phile
pro-choice is pro-life unlike those pro-death low-life poachers
support our soldiers by bringing them homewards

so happy september eleventh
remember the dismembered in heaven

from sp-ce’s perspective every day’s a new moon
view tomorrow’s date as random, tomorrow wouldn’t be too soon
heb-sed reverent said the reverend
they fell down to the ground and then they fell up to heaven
and not one went to h-ll, cause they were just victims
the system tricked ’em into selling insurance, currency trading, and prison procurance

so happy september eleven
remember the dismembered in heaven

the coalition of the willing kept the tradition of the shilling
refuse the euro, crude oil makes a k!lling
both literal and figurative, dig? you’re adrift in couch surf
ouch, it hurts to live without turf
can’t rep a physical spot, love music a lot
what else the size of a tape can fill up a park
depleted uranium, a/k/a du, soon a household word
a cash cow’s gold egg layin’ bird
don’t hatch gold chicks to the cold world
something’s missin’ from christendom, they never listen
dumb missionaries positioned in a giant stew pot, it’s too hot
but what they deserved, you got – settle back?
now isn’t that the true god calling the kettle black
trying to see heaven in a metal jet pack
head crack on the gl-ss ceiling forcefield
spit joints hit split points for gr-ss-wielding, -ss feeling door deals
yield the floor to the minority whip
if he’s rich, white and old, he’s sure to be hip
vote tally forty-three zip
fifty-seven abstained or didn’t show and expect you to vote or give ’em dough

so happy september eleven
remember the dismembered in heaven

- mc paul barman

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