Oh give them a home
Where no predators roam,
Where no pilot-less, lethal planes fly.
Where poor folks are safe
In their own living space
And where no drones rain death from the sly.
Drones, Drones in the sky –
Who decides o’er which country they’ll fly?
And if their bombs hit
Off target a bit,
Many innocent people may die!
Our pilots check in with a Starbucks in hand
And sit down at the keyboard to play.
They make the bombs fly
They can watch the folks die
And go home at the end of the day