Death hue falling on the faces of the streets lost children as the mortar fire b roken in. Nights cold, slipping through the cracks, Breaking through the cracks of crumbling plaster. Hunger gnaws, i can feel its claws but the pain of a bullet would burn much hott er in the spot light, mounted on the cannon of the tank the prowls.
Holy war, deliver me, rest my fear, i can not see.
Nameless, but i know the faces of the kids i sleep in jezebel's lair with. Thoughtless breaking my bread tween the mine fields flowers and gullies with dai ses. Some times i can find some rations that a solider let fall when the wind or life left him. Some times i can find a gun or a pistol or a knife to use.
Holy war, deliver me, rest my fear, i can not see. My eyes are blind, my bodies lame, my families gone, in my god's name, holy wars .
Nameless, faceless, but a tear or a dollar won't buy my justice. Fearless, clothed less then a war torn child should sleep or focus. Once i watched as a cannon slot fell through the stained glass window of a churc h on my street. Once i sat on a steeple now laying in the church yards playground.
Holy war, deliver me, rest my fear, i can not see. My eyes are blind, my bodies lame, my families gone, in my god's name, holy wars .
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