Martyrs Of A Holy War

Start a war,

We’re the warriors of God;

Torn pieces of charred flesh,

Our flowers are firebombs.

Pick a fight,

We’ll attack with righteous might;

Petroleum is our religion,

Oceans of oil in the afterlife.

Drop a bomb, break a plane,

It’s all part of the holy game;

Burning cities, sinking ships,

The Gods are high on something hip.

Holy land, blood and sand,

Desecrated by infidel steps;

Brown faces, blue eyes

Projectiles don’t discriminate.

But it's a holy war,

A phantom Devil in every eye;

At the end of every crimson flood,

Sinners live and sinners die.