| Death hue falling on the faces of the streets
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| lost children as the mortar fire broken in
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| Nights cold, slipping through the cracks
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| breaking through the cracks of crumbling plaster.
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| Hunger gnaws, I can feel it claws but the pain of a bullet would
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| burn much hotter in the spot like,
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| mounted on the cannon of the tank the prowls.
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| Holy war, deliver me, rest my fear, I can not see.
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| Nameless, but I no the faces of the kids I sleep in Jezebels lair with
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| Thoughtless breaking my bread tween the mine
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| fields flowers and gullies with daises.
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| Some times
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| I can find some rations that a solider let fall when the wind or life left him.
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| Some times I can find a gun on a pistol or a knife to use.
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| Holy war, deliver me, rest my fear, I can not see.
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| My eyes are blind, my bodies lame, my families gone, in my gods name, Holy Wars.
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| Nameless, faceless, but a tear or a dollar won’t buy my justice.
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| Pearless clothed less then a war torn child should sleep or focus.
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| Once I watched as a cannon slot fell through the stained
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| glass window of a church on my street, once
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| I sat on a steeple now laying in the church yards playground.
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| Holy war, deliver me, rest my fear,
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| I can not see.
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| My eyes are blind, my bodies lame,
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| my families gone, in my gods name, Holy Wars. |