| Newcomers dance and sing
|
| Relieved by the passing of spring
|
| They feel the grace of the sun
|
| Their misfortune has not yet begun
|
| Where the men used to come for their drinks
|
| Where the children would play endlessly
|
| They have taken our everything
|
| They know not what tomorrow shall bring
|
| On the opposite side of the field
|
| A vengeance that shall never yield
|
| Fathers weep for their sons
|
| Their suffering cannot be undone
|
| Why cry?
|
| From squalor and ruin we rise
|
| They reap what they've sown
|
| Arise, arise
|
| Past the horizon lay paradise
|
| But here the rivers run red
|
| Dregs of the world seen through their eyes
|
| Less than the dung below the flies
|
| Fields of the dead bake in the light
|
| Children, women and men, their bodies lie
|
| Piled in the streets stacked six feet high
|
| Tell me why, oh why
|
| Limbs contorted
|
| Anatomical morbid distortions
|
| At a biblical limit the purging
|
| In our hearts is a rage ever burning
|
| Come the next morning
|
| We attack with a thousand scornings
|
| Look upon us like death is emerging
|
| Beginning the righteous charge, disparaging
|
| Now it's our turn for the scourging
|
| With a hatred relentlessly swarming
|
| Skies wail as rockets are hurling
|
| Falling down to earth screaming and bursting
|
| Miles, miles and miles of corpses
|
| They bear witness to vindictive forces
|
| As far as the eyes can see
|
| If you saw it you wouldn't believe it
|
| When will these fucking wars end? |