| Red and swollen tears tumble from her eyes
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| While cold silver birds who came to cruise the skies
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| Send death down to bend and twist her tiny hands
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| And then proceed to target «B"in keeping with their plans
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| Khaki priests of Christendom interpreters of love
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| Ride a stone Leviathan across a sea of blood
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| And pound their feet into the sand of shores they’ve never seen
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| Delegates from the western land to join the death machine
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| And we send cards and letters.
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| The oxen lie beside the road their bodies baked in mud
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| And fat flies chew out their eyes then bathe themselves in blood
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| And super heroes fill the skies, tally sheets in hand
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| Yes, keeping score in times of war takes a superman
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| The junk crawls past hidden death its cargo shakes inside
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| And soldier children hold their breath and kill them as they hide
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| And those who took so long to learn the subtle ways of death
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| Lie and bleed in paddy mud with questions on their breath
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| And we send prayers and praises. |