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Lorne Clarke Lorne Clarke, Gold Parades Parades words & music by Lorne Clarke 2003 - all rights reserved I hate parades I hate drums and bugles And I won't salute a flag Or a gasbag politician Stealing honour from the dead Just screwing with my head I hate parades I hate parades I hate to say That we're bringing up our children On MTV and Raves And not all that much schooling Yet their factory jobs await They'll make stuff we'll throw away I hate to say I hate to say I hate the taste Of corporate boot leather As I grovel for my pay But these times are desperate And it's the price we have to pay Throw our digniy away I hate that taste I hate the taste I hate the face That looks back from the mirror A map of my mistakes Landmarks like bomb craters And tye panic in those eyes Does not subside with time I hate that face I hate the face I hate parades I hate drums and bugles And I won't salute a flag Or a gasbag politician Stealing glory from the dead Just screwing with my head I hate parades I hate parade |
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