Propagandhi - Dear Coach's Corner

Dear, Ron MacLean
Dear, Coach's Corner
I'm writing in order
For someone to explain
To my niece, the distinction
Between these mandatory pre-game group rites of submission
And the rallies at Nuremburg
Specifically the function
The ritual serves in conjunction
With what everybody knows
Is in the end a kid's game
I'm just appealing to your sense of fair play

When I say
She's puzzled by
This incessant pressure
For her to not defy
Collective will
Yellow-ribboned lapels
As the soldiers inexplicably rappel
Down from the arena rafters
If not so insane
Would be grounds for screaming laughter

Dear, Ron MacLean
I wouldn't bother with these questions
If I didn't sense some spiritual connection
We may not be the same
But it's not like we're from different planets
we both love this game so much
we can hardly fucking stand it
Alberta-born, prairie-raised
Ain't a sheet of ice north of Fargo I ain't played
From Penhold to the Gatineau
Every fond memory of childhood that I know
Is somehow connected
To the culture of this game, I can't just let it go

I guess it comes down to
What kind of world you want
To live in
If diversity is disagreement
Disagreement is treason
Well, don't be surprised if we find ourselves reaping

A strange and bitter fruit
That sad old man beside you
Keeps feeding to young minds as virtue
It takes a village to raise a child
A flag to raze the children
'Til they're nothing more than ballast for fulfilling
A madman's dream
Of a paradise
Complexity reduced to black and white

How do I
Protect her from
This cult of death?

Written by:
David Guillas, Todd Kowalski, Jord Samolesky, Chris Hannah

Publisher:
Lyrics © SMALLMAN RECORDS INC

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