We've been at the edge too many times,
To ignore the warning signs
Now that we're led by those who are blind,
To the world that is outside
They will ensure, that they'll make our lives,
A misery before our eyes
These power whores, are those who decide..
Which civil war goes on the side
It's out of our hands.
To a man we must fight or be overrun
And by midnight, the first strike has begun..
Would they rather die..or live and suffer...this reign of thunder
Nations in need, no longer have the right, to chose which war in which they fight..
Hatred and greed, and mad myopic sight
Add to the Anarchists delight
The poor will die whatever, in the ultimate defeat,
We sell them arms
But send them nothing they can eat..
Women and children, starved and alone..
They are like shadows painted on bare walls
In spite of the land in their hands, the respite will fool no-one..
And by midnight there is light, but no sun
Would they rather die, than live and suffer, through this reign of thunder
Take it as read, that what's left behind, incriminates the ones inside
And we are fed, all the same old lies, twisted thoughts of twisted minds
It's out of our hands...