Black Budget

Lyrics

Black Budget (It's a Shame)

Introspoken

Ding. "Your Freedom of Information request has been received." ...When do I get it? "Estimated wait: eleven years." ...Eleven? Ding. "Request complete. All pages redacted." ...Even the "Dear Sir"?

Verse 1sparse

Wild Bill ran the OSS when the whole world was at war Jumpin' behind the lines - and I salute that, for sure But the treaty ink was wet when they went shoppin' for a team Hired Hitler's eastern spy chief - Gehlen and his whole machine SS in the Rolodex, the Wehrmacht maps still on the wall Uncle Sam said "Commies first" - the conscience could wait till fall Paperclip brought the rocket men, sixteen hundred on the boat V-2s built by slaves in tunnels - but who's keepin' notes? Forty-seven, Harry Truman signed the Company with swagger Later wrote the Post he never meant the cloak and dagger But the cloak got thicker, and the dagger got a budget A line that says "classified," so nobody can touch it Fifty-three, they flipped Iran - Mossadegh got the boot Thirty years later sellin' Tehran missiles - what a loop Every April I'm a donor to a mission I can't read Payin' rent on a house where they won't show me the deed

Hooktalk box comes in

(It's a shame!) What they do in our name On the taxpayer's dime, in a classified frame (It's a shame!) No receipts, no blame Black budget, gold bars - and the game stays the same

Verse 2add horns, scratches

Nuremberg wrote "consent" when they hanged the Nazi docs Six years later MK-Ultra's spikin' coffee pots Frank Olson took a dose, and nine days later took a fall Thirteen floors at the Statler - and the Company didn't call Midnight Climax, San Francisco - safe-house mirrors, two-way glass Agents sippin' martinis, and they called that science - class Then in '75 Frank Church pulled the curtain on the show Poison cigars for Castro, and the Mob was in the know Toothpaste meant for Lumumba - yeah, they tried that, I ain't jokin' And a heart-attack dart gun held up in the Senate like a token Two hundred fifteen thousand letters opened - Mama, you got beat CHAOS on the campus - every kid with a sign got a sheet Fifty journalists on the payroll, printin' the Company line Then Helms fed the Ultra files to the shredder - right on time

Hook

(It's a shame!) What they do in our name On the taxpayer's dime, in a classified frame (It's a shame!) No receipts, no blame Black budget, gold bars - and the game stays the same

Verse 3new groove, organ

Eighty-five, they sold Iran some missiles off the books Ran the profits to the Contras - Congress said no, but look Ollie fed the shredder, Fawn Hall had the papers in her boots Christmas Eve of '92, six pardons - everybody scoots And Freeway Rick - not the rapper, the original, the source Got his powder from a Contra friend named Blandón, of course Gary Webb wrote "Dark Alliance," and the big papers piled on Then a memo out of '82 turned up where it was all along: Langley didn't have to tell the Justice Department when Its foreign friends were movin' weight - thirteen years of "pretend" Casey wore the Maltese cross, McCone wore it before Old boys' club with a chaplain and a velvet rope on the door Two thousand, two hijackers landed with their visas in hand Langley knew, didn't tell the Bureau till that August - understand? Jeddah's visa chief said he got told to sign 'em through Even Schumer said on TV: cross the spooks, they'll get back at you "Six ways from Sunday" - that's the deep state, and the senator knew

Bridgebreakdown, then a build

Presidents come and presidents go (go) But the Company stays and it runs the show (show) Need to know, need to know - seventy-nine years And the ones who pay the bill never get to know

Verse 4full band

Now it's '26 - the Feds knock on a Company door Two hundred ninety-eight gold bars, two million cash, and more Thirty-five luxury watches and a pair of BMWs Four houses down in Florida - and the bill came due to you Made a fake "Special Access Program" nobody else could see Hundred ninety-four million - and he faked his rank and his degree Told folks he was a doctor, told folks he was a pilot - please Top Secret clearance stamped on a résumé of make-believe World's finest spies been readin' mail since '52 But an island full of big shots? Suddenly, no clue A prince paid to settle, lost the "Prince" before his name And the files come out in black bars - y'all, it's a shame It ain't the folks at the desks - it's a house with no checks Seventy-nine years, and we're still payin' for the wrecks

Hookfinal, key lift

(It's a shame!) What they do in our name Seventy-nine years, and it's still the same game (It's a shame!) Not mad - just pained Black budget, no receipts - Uncle Sam, it's a shame

Outrospoken

Ding. "Request complete. Pages released: zero. Thank you for your patience." ...I paid for the paper they blacked it out on. Ding. "This song has been classified." ...Figures.