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lyrics
Born poor as an immigrant’s son
I turned eighteen during Vietnam
I got a letter in ‘71
Saying, “Boy, pack your bags when the morning comes”
Navy father with the scars of victory
Says, “My son, you'd better listen to me
I’ve got some money I will send you by sea
To hide in Canada until they set you free”
Whitlam licked ‘em in ‘72
And did exactly what he said he would do
High hopes of the people got through
And I came home when the west withdrew
Super tough hard rock with spoken word interludes and an experimental bent featuring members of San Francisco's early punk band Crime. Bandcamp New & Notable Oct 27, 2017