Winners Take All Lyrics
Dripping out the sticks like a twig-tweed hammock
Miter cut the cables for that quick, clean transit
Miser took the big screen; Panic made a business card
Ankle out of whack, painkiller tobacco scrap
We navigate the yellow corn height for the barn
When the spotlight swiveled hard right over the farm
Post up, 3 cheers for the gimp,
sprint, thank you (3 on the right)
Limp to the door, splint woody mangled (3 on the left)
oh yea I knew the percentages
But the numbers were unaware of the grand finale's emphasis
And over the scent of a thousand dead dogs
Agent Zip-Zooka swore to pull it off, gameface
Walkie-talkies squawking up his hip regarding paratroopers: twenty (Ha!)
Tug a noise box-trigger reporting for hunting
I have not recieved my papers
I have zero natural enemies
I don't know my location
I have no training in reconnaissance, combat or colluding
I'm calling for my orders, over
(STRAP ON A HELMET AND START SHOOTING!)
hoarse, numb and bloodthirsty
'Till the uncle spitter beg a jungle pig to hug mercy (Ha!)
240-below, shit-kickers tickle the corpses (duck!)
Duck the widow-maker, also manufactures autos (okay)
Manufactured ornaments, if it moves stick a fork in it
Winners take all, killers rape all coordinates
Unfortunately, courted by the most tenacious guardian
Whose aimless nature bait a harlequin to taste the martyr's skin
No semper-fi (Nope), no saluter units
Soldier the fire is more flesh than sulphur
And when the automatic jitters wiggle the ribs
I feel so alive it don't matter which bitch's litter is clipped (Bang!)
Sun down, goggle up; canteen gobble-juice
Tear gas nozzle up, brain buff hostile youth
Chop it up, lock a noose upon it
You will die for the glory of...Shit, I can't put my finger on it
But it's big! Big and legitimate
Justify women and kiddie killer shit, iller it builds
So he is not a natural predator, but can dismantle an AK-47
Clean and rebuild before you can mayday bretheren (Mayday!)
Muddy-gut snake eyes, he approaches cobras with an ugly mug
And bloody bowie knife clamped in the canines
Wake 'em with that blind military mechanism set to bludgeon
What is your major malfunction?
I have not recieved my papers
I have zero natural enemies
I don't know my location
I have no training in reconnaissance, combat or colluding
I'm calling for my orders, over
(Strap on a helmet and start shooting!)
I was standing at attention with a pocket full of weapons
And the will to walk a mile in the same fatigues that I slept in
I have yet to find a day in life worthy of my saluting
I'm calling for my orders, over
(Strap on a helmet andx start shooting!)
Disorderly only after having logged every cadaver accordingly
High scores keep automatons enthralled
(There is no cause iller than no cause at all)
Okay, if his perspective is murked, sneaky detective work is aborted
And it's no longer whisper-mode on the red alert
No bed of dirt 'n' sniper rifle peeking out the bunker (uh!)
Now I'm set in city looking for something to puncture (*gunshot*)
Help me up the numbers of the heroes sad as suffers
Treat the public like a tin can, riddled before it plummets (Brrrap!)
But, adrenaline can lead to lazy-eye hassles
So enlist the little boy into the pin-up the pineapple (Heh)
Thats funny...Bumps into the steel-toe
Thats lovely, sum it up in (Oh, hell no!)
And just as fast as the parachute cable's snipped
I was rag-doll, horizontal, two limbs short of fixed
Leaguer baby pulled around the standard issue weaponry
While fading as a blemish in civility's memory
They will step over the body for the looting..
(Ready on the firing line)
(The fuck is that?)
Strap on a helmet and start shooting!
I have not recieved my papers
I have zero natural enemies
I don't know my location
I have no training in reconnaissance, combat or colluding
I'm calling for my orders, over
(Strap on a helmet and start shooting!)
I was standing at attention with a pocket full of weapons
And the will to walk a mile in the same fatigues that I slept in
I have yet to find a day in life worthy of my saluting
I'm calling for my orders, over
Strap on a helmet and start shooting! [Start shooting! (Repeat till fade out)]
This song is about war, and how Aesop feels about it.
"Ratlines" are the shroudlines of a parachute. One of'ems messed up, so the parachute doesn't deploy right. He lands, busts his ankle and uses some chewing tobacco to get through the pain. "Sticks" are the units of paratroopers.
The second verse, the important part is the "two forty Below-shit", for me. M240B(bravo) is the standard issue Medium Machine Gun of the Army(as compared to the 240G(Gulf) of the Marines). The "no semper fi" part confirms that the character is an Army soldier, not a Marine.
I think this might be a "biography" of sorts of a friend Aesop has who was in the Army in Afghanistan AND Iraq(Iraq was much more screwed up). It remidns me of a buddy of mine's stories about Iraq and how fucked up being a soldier can get. Sometimes, you get shot at for hours on end by some asshole sniper, and you finally snap and order your team to open fire in the general direction of the sniper. Fuckit, maybe you get him, maybe not, but it relieves the stress. And I've also heard alot of people discuss the high they feel in combat.