Vergelijkbare songs
Credits
PERFORMING ARTISTS
Ian Brown
Vocals
SinƩad O'Connor
Vocals
Tim Wills
Programming
Robert Maxfield
Drums
Mike Thompson
French Horn
Matt Pegg
Bass Guitar
Bill Lockhart
Timpani
Richard Watkins
French Horn
Simon Hale
Performer
Jackie Shave
Violin
Perry Montague-Mason
Violin
Pete Lale
Viola
Martin Loveday
Cello
Chris Lawrence
Double Bass
Skaila Kanga
Harp
Patrick Kiernan
Violin
Boguslav Kostecki
Violin
Chris Tombling
Violin
Julian Leaper
Violin
Jonathan Rees
Violin
Warren Zielinski
Violin
Mark Berrow
Violin
Liz Edwards
Violin
Cathy Thompson
Violin
Tom Pigott-Smith
Violin
Emlyn Singleton
Violin
Dave Woodcock
Violin
Bruce White
Viola
Garfield Jackson
Viola
Rachel Bolt
Viola
Dave Daniels
Cello
Caroline Dale
Cello
Ben Chappell
Viola
Mary Scully
Double Bass
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Ian Brown
Composer
Tim Wills
Composer
Robert Maxfield
Composer
Simon Hale
String Arranger
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
Tim Wills
Co-Producer
Gordon Davidson
Assistant Recording Engineer
Robert Maxfield
Co-Producer
Tariq Mattar
Assistant Recording Engineer
Raj Das
Assistant Recording Engineer
Steve Price
Recording Engineer
Matt Bartram
Assistant Recording Engineer
Songteksten
So what the fuck is this UK
Gunnin' with this US of A
In Iraq and Iran and in Afghanistan
Does not a day go by
Without the Israeli Air Force
Fail to drop it's bombs from the sky?
How many mothers to cry?
How many sons have to die?
How many missions left to fly over Palestine?
'Cause as a matter of facts
It's a pact, it's an act
These are illegal attacks
So bring the soldiers back
These are illegal attacks
It's contracts for contacts
I'm singing concrete facts
So bring the soldiers back
What mean ya that you beat my people
What mean ya that you beat my people
And grind the faces of the poor
So tell me just how come were the Taliban
Sat burning incense in Texas
Roaming round in a Lexus
Sittin' on six billion oil drums
Down with the Dow Jones, up on the Nasdaq
Pushed into the war zones
It's a commercial crusade
'Cause all the oil men get paid
And only so many soldiers come home
It's a commando crusade
A military charade
And only so many soldiers come home
What mean ya that you beat my people
What mean ya that you beat my people
And grind the faces of the poor
Soldiers, soldiers come home
Soldiers come home
Through all the blood and sweat
Nobody can forget
It ain't the size of the dog in the fight
It's the size of the fight in the dog on the day or the night
There's no time to reflect
On the threat, the situation, the bark nor the bite
These are commercial crusades
'Cause all the oil men get paid
These are commando crusades
Commando tactical rape
And from the streets of New York and Baghdad to Tehran and Tel Aviv
Bring forth the prophets of the Lord
From dirty bastards fillin' pockets
With the profits of greed
These are commercial crusades
Commando tactical raids
Playin' military charades to get paid
And who got the devils?
And who got the Lords?
Build yourself a mountain ā Drink up in the fountain
Soldiers come home
Soldiers come home
Soldiers come home
Soldiers come home
What mean ya that you beat my people
What mean ya that you beat my people
And grind the faces of the poor
What mean ya that you beat my people
What mean ya that you beat my people
And grind the faces of the poor
Writer(s): Ian Brown, Tim Wills, Robert Maxfield
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