Dein Warenkorb ist gerade leer!
There’s a plane across the moon
As a nation finds its feet
There are listening posts in Cyprus
That can track a man’s heart-beat
There’s a plane across the moon
As a nation holds its breath
There are trades on hold in London
Waiting on Lumumba’s death
You say ‘Yeah, but that was then and this is now,
That was then,’
But now is made up of then,
Now is made up of then,
Again, again; again, again.
There’s a plane across the moon
As a nation spreads its wings
There are cables out of Washington
In code a darkness brings
There’s a plane across the moon
As a nation leaves the nest
Just send the thugs some dollars
And greed will do the rest
Planes and moons let business take its course
The infant state must suffocate, no profit in remorse
Moons make planes much easier to sight
Some damage is collateral, Dag Hammarskjöld’s last flight