War is our business now, for every tear not shed
And every grave not dug, there's a dollar left unspent
You really think the ones making the bullets, are the same ones that pray for peace
Their praying for enough greens, for all those palms left to grease
Step on the necks of a thousand men, bullets rain down in fiery shower
And when we all go hungry, let them eat gunpowder
Cold Years, from Scotland, burn through 13 high-octane rock & roll songs that conjure images of factory towns and wide-open roads. Bandcamp New & Notable Sep 5, 2020