You didn’t teach him to be killed,
You taught him to kill
An art in which he is less willing than skilled
You will fuck him up royally just for a thrill, so
Fuck you, Government Man.

He’s a real good kid but to you he’s a grunt,
How many sorry young souls do you want?
Well, a pat on the back and a year on the front
Fuck em up, Government Man.

Why do you hate the troops so much?
Why do you hate the truth so much?
Why do you get to be the judge?
I’m asking you, Government Man.

“I Heart Dead Civilians” his rifle-butt reads
Money for college is all that he needs
And it’s only ironic til’ somebody bleeds
He’s not your kid, Government Man.

You don’t pay him to be killed,
You pay him to kill,
And if you pay him enough,
He most certainly will
And he shouldn’t be a killer
But a father still
And a husband to the woman on the windowsill.

He was a good soldier, not a government shill
What are you? You’re a Goverment man.

Why do you hate the troops so much?
Why do you hate the truth so much?
Why do you get to be the judge?
I’m asking you, Government Man.
Yeah, I’m asking you, Government Man.

-Rhett Miller, Government Man. Beautiful and sad, isn’t it?