Songtext von The Junta

Under a burning sun they lead him before the firing squad Without flinching, without begging, without crying out, without swearing The sword was lowered, the butchers fired, fired, fired, fired, fired, fired The junta in power struck cold and hard The junta purged ruthlessly, no hesitation Right hands held high, iron fists on poverty On little people living in misery Elections are fixed, peasants are tricked Opponents arrested, hidden ant tortured in jails underground In the hands of exiled SS old and new The past and the future trapped by four walls of blood Talk democracy speak of ways of life In front of the gunrunners who come bearing arms American, Swiss, French or Soviets They'll leave the poor only what's left Conquests gained in jails of the state Will win decoration regardless of fate Glory fed tears and misery Only a painful death can set free It's up to you to keep that cadence Give yourself a clear conscience Going abroad being received Friends of the statesman and dictator The junta is well-aligned, well costumed paragon of virtue The junta of high ranking dignitaries who sow your ideas in blood The junta of South America where your only right is silence The junta of Videla, Somoza, Pinochet, Straisner Who had the hides of your people as the spoils of war An finaly the junta propaganda prepares for alignment