Surfin' Guantanamo Bay

All the high grounds covered in a thick, black fog
Any man of any honour hell be dying like a dog
Theres an ill wind and its blowing up perfect, man, you know what I say?
Pick up your waterboard and meet me down at Camp X-Ray
Yeah, everybodys gone surfin Guantanamo Bay

I try to wash it all away in the swell
But every wave digs my soul a little closer to Hell
Try to push a little conscience to the back of my head
Out in the water until the whole damn ocean turns to red

Well the weathers pushing ninety, but my blood runs cold
And my faith is a slow, complicit torture for my soul
Can you feel that fizz and it feels okay?
Im packing up all of my troubles,
Wash them clean in the spray
Yeah, everybodys gone surfin Guantanamo Bay

I try to wash it all away in the swell
But every wave pulls my soul a little closer to Hell
Try to push a little conscience to the back of my head
Out in the water until the whole damn ocean turns to red...