That's What You Get
Over a year ago
There's a girl who screams and clutches at rubble
Just like she dreamed
She was killed for her bravery and love that she felt(2nd verse: and a strength I don't have)
and the same mentality that put bullets in a four year old girl
and a portion of our money arming the hands of these criminals
As it stands right now I'm unhappy with the part of myself that's a murderer.
I won't know how to tell my kids I'm a shareholder in state terror
Unhappy with the part of myself that throws fundraisers for butchers
Unhappy with the part of myself that's a murderer, torturer, rapist and a thief
For your money you get: Savagery. Animals. Brutality.
Conscience tax.
Bulldozers.
Death squad camps.
and kids filled with hate...
But this is what we've really invested in:
The defeat of ourselves (ourselves)
We'll trade our own (our own)
With nowhere to go (that's what you get)
Guns turned on ourselves
For trading our own
We kept our heads all turned and not feeling guilty
While selling out the future we might not ever see.
Explanation:
In 2002 I considered going to Palestine with the International Solidarity Movement, a group of people from all over the world who nonviolently protest against Israeli brutality by standing in front of homes the Israeli army routinely bulldoze either as a response to a suicide bomb or to clear way for Israeli settlements. The idea behind this way of protest is to put western people physically in unity with the Palestinian people against Israeli government aggression, because while the Israeli army may think nothing of killing several innocent Palestinians, they know western governments would react furiously to the deaths of one of their nation's own. In the end, I backed out of it, knowing it could almost certainly be suicidal to go, as Sharon's
Israeli army showed less regard for anyone who disagreed with his policies (Ariel Sharon is the prime minister of Israel, he is wanted in Belgium on war crimes charges for allowing a militia to enter a Palestinian territory and massacre everyone inside). I felt entirely depressed though, as I know my government, the U.S. government, is directly responsible for much of these deaths in Palestine, as we give billions of dollars a year to Israel in military equipment, even down to the very bulldozers that demolish houses. Rachel Corrie was a girl who probably felt the same as myself and went to Palestine with the ISM. She was a beautiful girl who came from a normal middle class background, had a boyfriend and a typical suburban life. Eventually, after many close brushes with death by Israeli army fire, she died standing bravely in front of a bulldozer preparing to demolish a Palestinian home. I suppose the Israeli army decided they didn't care she was a citizen of the government that donates all the equipment they use to kill and destroy, right down to the very bulldozer that ended Rachel's life. I'm sure Rachel didn't go to Israel to become a martyr, she wanted to go home to her mother, who wrote her asking her to come home. However, her bravery to me is an inspiration, a sign that suburban kids often depicted as college activists and "weekend warriors" honestly do care about injustices done in our name, so much so that they'd risk life and limb. Osama bin Laden's terrorist network use the crimes done against Palestinians as one of their main reasons for attacking western states. We are responsible. We elect the people that let or make it happen, and we pay them well. Our taxes have led to bloodshed the world over. Rachel's sacrifice wasn't just done in protection of the Palestinians, she stood up for all Americans who'd never want to have murder done in their name. Americans for the most part do not know the terrorism we've carried out, and they'd never want to believe it. Our culture keeps us focused on ourselves, while we let our foreign policies kill our children through reaction-terrorism, sending them to war in countries we have no business being in, or by letting the savages our government employs kill a girl braver than any soldier.
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