album cover
Red
325
Rock
Red was released on August 29, 2025 by PPM as a part of the album Red, White, and Blue - Single
album cover
Release DateAugust 29, 2025
LabelPPM
LanguageEnglish
Melodicness
Acousticness
Valence
Danceability
Energy
BPM125

Credits

PERFORMING ARTISTS
Paul P McSweeney
Paul P McSweeney
Vocals
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Paul P McSweeney
Paul P McSweeney
Songwriter
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
Kevin Billingslea
Kevin Billingslea
Producer

Lyrics

Doomed to repeat
Repeat designs
Move to the beat
Please form a line
In the sand where you stand
If you resist get left behind
And we're running out of time
And I told you to
March
Like puppets on a string
March
He's not a God, He's not a King
March right into death, you fucking idiots
You'll thank him as you hang,
God Bless the USA
Bombs Away
They always fly
If the right is wrong
The left will pay the price
It's to little to late
The damage has been done
And there's no one left to blame
but you
March
Like puppets on a string
March
He's not a God, He's not a King
March right off the edge, you fucking idiots
On empty words you cling, the end of everything
that you think you're saving
You're to proud and loud to even want to listen
You won't see what we see when we see
You can't seem to see what's happening
You won't hear anything that we bring over this two timing clown
I will save the day, tell you to think they're all to blame
Serve you shit through a gilded straw, who needs the truth when I'm the law
And I'm coming for everything
BURN IT WITH GASOLINA, LATINO HIROSHIMA
Your schools, your homes, your churches, your stores
Steal all of your children with no day in court
Your culture, your science, no dancing ,no fires
No healthcare, just bias, war, famine, my darkest desires, your total compliance
And I'm just getting started
March
Like puppets on a string
March
He's not a God, He's not a King
March right into death, you fucking idiots
You'll thank him as you hang,
God Bless the USA
March
Like puppets on a string
March
He's not a God, He's not a King
March right off the edge, you fucking idiots
On empty words you cling,
the end of everything
Written by: Paul P McSweeney
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