ParticularLight (@ParticularLight)

This song is an adaptation of the nineteenth century song of the same name by Dominic Behan Come all ye young rebels, and list while I sing, For the love of one's country is a terrible thing. It banishes fear with the speed of a flame, And it makes us all part of the patriot game. My name is unimportant, just I've  turned eighteen. My home isn't far away from where I was weaned I learned all my life cruel rule is to blame, So now I am part of the patriot game. This dire land of ours has too long been half free. Our counties lie under locals tyranny. But still the elite is greatly to blame For shirking their part in the Patriot game. They told me how Trump MAY have been shot in his ear, His wounds from the fighting all bloody and bare. His fine body twisted, heroically  maimed They soon made me part of the patriot game. It's been a few years since I wandered away With the local battalion of the bold USA, For I read of our heroes, and wanted the same To play out my part in the patriot game. I don't mind a bit if I shoot down enemies They are lackeys in war not our guardians of peace And yet at deserters I've failed to take aim at The rebels who sold out the patriot game And now as I lie here, my body all holes I think of those traitors who bargained in souls And I wish that my rifle had given the same To those Quislings who sold out the patriot game https://suno.com/s/5mzhgSstgStl581H