Wanka Tanka
You don’t know my name but you can call me ‘Sir’
I’m the man who can stop all this war
I’ve been this way a time or three before
This is my last time
This is my last rhyme
So I’ll be racking up the score
You only see my shadow
They call me a ghost
They call me a spirit
Some dare say I’m a lie
But they’ll repent once they die
I Am swinging a mighty axe
Babylon shall fall
Along with Mister Trump
And all that will remain is the stump
I cry to the Lakota, Nakota, Dakota
To the Nez Perce
To the Apachie, Hopi and all the rest
I have many things to say
My people are the best
What we have forgotten from yesterday
We will relearn in yet a better way
The boats are loaded get your tickets to Europe
Somehow someway you’ll cope
We don’t want your demonic money
Your schools, your rules, your pope
These are fighting words I declare
These are fighting words say a prayer
When will God intervene?
Check out the scene
Do you desire a nuclear kiss?
An endless apocalypse?
Such are the wages of sin
When the missiles are launched nobody will win
Take a breath, relax
Hear the melody of a lonesome sax
We’re taking our lands back
You can resist
But it’ll be no contest
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