Here come tha (mutha fuckin') golden eagles, with their cleavers

Swooping down just like a flock of seagulls, to smack the beavers...

Deceivers, they're not achievers...

They call themselves peaceful relievers - they're dropping bombs...

They call them calms, but it's a war zone CHORUS

They're paying alms, but for a cause that's their own

The more my dreams come true, the more they die

Liberation to exploitation is only lies...

Cries the wounded child as he clutches the soil

How many members of his family dead because of oil?

They're setting fires, to burn their resource

Meanwhile the buyers, are taking it by force

And if we kill the evil tyrant, the dictator, the oppressor...

Will we have to kill all of his dangerous successors?

Will it be World War III, will we live to see the end?

Or will we have to kill them all until we kill our last friend?

Here come tha (mutha fuckin') golden eagles, with their cleavers

Oh down they swoop just like a flock of seagulls, to smack the beavers

Deceivers, they're not achievers...

They call themselves peaceful relievers.... they're dropping bombs!!

They call them calms, but it's a war zone

They're paying alms, but for a cause that's their own (CHORUS REPEAT)