"The Chariot"

This is a song that came upon me one night
When the news it had been telling me
'Bout one more war and one more fight.
"Aihee" I sighed
But then I thought about my friends
Then I wrote this declaration
Just in case the world end.

Our guns? We shot them in the things we said
Ah, we did not need no bullets
Cos we rely on some words instead.
We'd kill someone in argument
Outwit them with our brains
And we'd kill ourselves a'laughing
At the funny things we'd say.

Our bombs? We had them saved for special times
when the crew would call a shake down
We'd break down a party landmine.
Women that so y
They explode us with their looks
Ah, we blowing up the speakers
jumping round til the ground shook.

And missiles, were the road trips that we launched
Tripping cross this island
Starting missions at the break of dawn.
We'd yawn and smile say
"What direction shall we take?"
We going somewhere where it warm and wet
This be the route we'd always take.

Our weapons were our [bad word] 
Made from some timber and steel.
We never yielded to conformity
But stood like kings
In the chariot that's riding on a record wheel.

Our air force flying when the frisbee in the sky
Have a session while we smoking
Then we feeling extra high.
Then we'd sneak into a car park
With the skaties on our back
And we flying down the levels
Howling "on the attack now, on the attack".

Our battles? They happened in the dance-hall
See we'd rather fight with music
Choosing one the rhythm war.
So we battled at the shake downs
And we battling at the gigs
We did battle in our bedrooms
Made some sweet love to the beat.

Then our allies grew wherever we would roam
See whenever we together
Any stranger feel at home.
In a way we are an army
But this army not [bad word] No instead we doing simple things
good loving find [bad word] a muck.

This be the declaration written about my friends
It's engraved into this song
So they know I'm not forgetting them.
See maybe if the world contained
More people like these,
Then the news would not be telling me
About all that warfare endlessly.

Our weapons were our [bad word] 
Made from some timber and steel.
We never yielded to conformity
But stood like kings
In the chariot that's riding on a record wheel.