Song | Four Blank Slates |
Artist | David Rovics |
Album | Halliburton Boardroom Massacre |
Beside an unused union hall | |
And an abandoned factory | |
By the Allegheny River | |
In another rust belt city | |
You can see the well-dressed families | |
On Memorial Day | |
Reading the names on the walls | |
Of all those who went away | |
Who went off in a ship | |
And came back in a bag | |
Packed into a coffin | |
Wrapped up in a flag | |
I saw a war on every stone | |
I read a name on every line | |
And when I reached the end | |
A chill ran down my spine | |
Four blank slates | |
For battlefields yet unknown | |
That soon some will call their own | |
A wordless message in a frame | |
Four blank slates | |
For the dice that aren’t yet tossed | |
For the lives that aren’t yet lost | |
For a war without a name | |
What will be written on that stone | |
Will it be on Persian soil | |
Will they say it was for freedom | |
Or Venezuelan oil | |
The only thing that’s certain | |
Is it will be across the sea | |
And the new names on this rock | |
Will have died in someone else’s country | |
Four blank slates | |
For battlefields yet unknown | |
That soon some will call their own | |
A wordless message in a frame | |
Four blank slates | |
For the dice that aren’t yet tossed | |
For the lives that aren’t yet lost | |
For a war without a name | |
How many other nations | |
Are already planning their next war | |
How many people know | |
It’ll be on someone else’s shore | |
Will there come a time | |
When all good people are enraged | |
To see a slate awaiting | |
A war that’s not yet waged | |
Four blank slates | |
For battlefields yet unknown | |
That soon some will call their own | |
A wordless message in a frame | |
Four blank slates | |
For the dice that aren’t yet tossed | |
For the lives that aren’t yet lost | |
For a war without a name |
Beside an unused union hall | |
And an abandoned factory | |
By the Allegheny River | |
In another rust belt city | |
You can see the welldressed families | |
On Memorial Day | |
Reading the names on the walls | |
Of all those who went away | |
Who went off in a ship | |
And came back in a bag | |
Packed into a coffin | |
Wrapped up in a flag | |
I saw a war on every stone | |
I read a name on every line | |
And when I reached the end | |
A chill ran down my spine | |
Four blank slates | |
For battlefields yet unknown | |
That soon some will call their own | |
A wordless message in a frame | |
Four blank slates | |
For the dice that aren' t yet tossed | |
For the lives that aren' t yet lost | |
For a war without a name | |
What will be written on that stone | |
Will it be on Persian soil | |
Will they say it was for freedom | |
Or Venezuelan oil | |
The only thing that' s certain | |
Is it will be across the sea | |
And the new names on this rock | |
Will have died in someone else' s country | |
Four blank slates | |
For battlefields yet unknown | |
That soon some will call their own | |
A wordless message in a frame | |
Four blank slates | |
For the dice that aren' t yet tossed | |
For the lives that aren' t yet lost | |
For a war without a name | |
How many other nations | |
Are already planning their next war | |
How many people know | |
It' ll be on someone else' s shore | |
Will there come a time | |
When all good people are enraged | |
To see a slate awaiting | |
A war that' s not yet waged | |
Four blank slates | |
For battlefields yet unknown | |
That soon some will call their own | |
A wordless message in a frame | |
Four blank slates | |
For the dice that aren' t yet tossed | |
For the lives that aren' t yet lost | |
For a war without a name |