Song picture
Armor
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Armor is written from a soldier's perspective. It is pro-military and antiwar.
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Ghostrunner is intelligent cock rock. Sounds like Fugazi meets Foo Fighters meets Radiohead. If that makes any sense. Based out of Buffalo, NY--heavy, guitar-dr
Ghostrunner is intelligent cock rock. Or so they're told. Following the creative lead of Chris and Pascal Buckley, and produced by Robby Takac of the Goo Goo Dolls, Ghostrunner debuts its new EP, American Idle. It’s a collection of songs which give you insight into the obstacles you place in your own path and the time you dedicate to your own self-sabotage. For example, in featured songs such as Smitten, we are reminded that often we don’t get what we want. The hook of the song gives the message that people have to grow beyond: “Turn it up! Turn it up! They’re playing our songboy meets girland everything goes wrong.”
Song Info
Charts
Peak #138
Peak in subgenre #43
Author
Pascal Buckley and Chris Buckley
Rights
Buckley Bros. Music 2004-5
Uploaded
February 13, 2005
Track Files
MP3
MP3 3.3 MB 128 kbps 0:00
Story behind the song
We wrote this song to express our frustrations with the morality of appearances in modern economies. It's not that one has to be moral; it's that one has to appear moral. It's not that one has to be a good guardian of the public's trust; it's that one must appear to be. Yah, we know. 'Twas ever thus. But we're ticked off about it now, because we're alive NOW, and it's still not OK. But it's funny and fun to write about--because it's so damn sad.
Lyrics
“No blood for oil !” These trust fund kids shout at me…as if this were something so new “No tax for war !” They’re anguished as if this was something that governments just learned to do Back at the office their parents are busy compiling the numbers compelling us to war lacking a faith in homeland security they’ll pile their dollars into walls They’re armored against all human concern Come join the party smile for me and burn, baby burn Desertside Deploy the armor to engage the enemy flank I’m sending democracy’s postcards from the comfort of my tank back at the office computers are clicking and whirring and spreadsheets are duping us all and the folks to whom presidents owe these wars get richer and richer and pile their dollars into walls They’re armored against all human concern Come join the party smile for me and burn, baby burn and it’s we who do the trying and we who do the dying while those folks just send us enforcing agendas advancing their corporate fortunes through media distortions I just want to come home but I’m Desertside Deploy the armor to engage the enemy flank I’m sending the rich people’s postcards from the comfort of my tank
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