I’ve see it all before, revolution at my back door, well whose to
say it won’t happen all again. The Generals sip bacardi, while
the privates feel the pain.

They talk from the screen and T.V. tube, they talk revolution like
it’s processed food. They talk anarchy from music hall stages,
look for change in colour supplement pages. They think that by
talking from some distant tower, that something might change in
the structure of power. They dream, they dream, never walk on
the street. They dream, they dream, never stand on their feet.


Alternative values were a con, a fucking con.They never really
meant it when they said “Get it on.” They really meant, “Mine,
that’s mine,” can’t you see? They stamped on our heads so that
they could be free. They formed little groups, like rich man’s
ghettoes, tending their goats and organic tomatoes. While the
world was being fucked by fascist regimes, they talked of
windmills and psychedelic dreams.


Lyrics submitted by krushzed

General Bacardi song meanings
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