| Don’t touch it yet it’s hot
|
| Your fingertips will fall off
|
| The kitchen’s burning while I’m scraping the pots
|
| Come on now eat your food
|
| Cartridges fried and stewed
|
| This table has become a combat zone
|
| Sit down please be calm
|
| Let’s load our weapons now
|
| This is a civil war
|
| Oh please pass me the salt
|
| I need some salt, salt
|
| But you go on insult-insulting me
|
| Feed the kids with what we’ve got
|
| Chicken bones and porridge in a cup
|
| They eat while I fall asleep with an open mouth
|
| Yet no inspiration
|
| Bread will do for ammunition
|
| The fork and knife will be just fine
|
| Grab anything let’s start a fight
|
| What do we know about war
|
| What did we do before
|
| Things we for certain don’t remember anymore
|
| Oh please pass me the salt
|
| I need some salt, salt
|
| But you go on insult-insulting me
|
| What do you want my little son
|
| A jack knife or a gun
|
| Don’t use that language
|
| And don’t chew with an open mouth
|
| Licking for some salt
|
| I’m taking from whoever cups his hand
|
| Looking for some shelter
|
| Looking for a better sweeter land
|
| Do you know what it takes
|
| Have you really passed the test
|
| I think you could do it
|
| If you really wanted to… |