To Bradley Manning
Secret conversation between one Crazy Horse and its Bush Master.
Hotel Bushmaster two-six: Crazyhorse one-eightYou are looking at an enemy, in your hands is his fateAll you need is my blessing, when the trigger you pressYou blow them to smithereens, to the bloody mess
So, you think a camera looks like a gun?He may be a terrorist on a bombing runA Reuters journalist with a hidden agendaStealing secrets and spying for al-Qaeda
Yes, Bushmaster element, roger thatI will let him have it, a fucking ratI'll light them all up, bring a little fireThat's what they deserve, that's what we desire
That's what makes us proud with no ill willWe are calling the shots; we have a license to killIn the country that’s known as AfghanistanIn Iraq, in Yemen, and soon, in Iran
That Wikileaks’ guy, Assange is his nameTried to spoil our game, we will put him to shameWe have no names, and leave no tracesWhat we do is “on the need to know” basis.