God has no favourties and blood is spilled on holy hands. Parents lose their children, yet fail to understand why they're denounced as terrorists when they fall by a terrorist hand. They're dying again and I think I see nods of approval......and history repeats itself when we, the sons and daughers, haven't learned a thing from the logic of the death camps. Victim becomes the oppressor. Can't forget, so we repeat. Now there is a boy with a bomb under his shirt, where once just a stone and a sling. But there's a thousand rifles and a million thirsty bullets. They're dying again and I think I see nods of approval......and history repeats itself when the fuckers in power stay clear of the blood that taints their every want to remove the Unwanted. Can't forget, so we repeat. If it's sleep that you want, then sleep tight. Sweet dreams. Meanwhile the peace that they know is not the peace that we know. It's just silce before yet another storm.....and a red sun rises. Listen! In the dawn of the wretched, the lonely sound of a promise: 'if they deny us our live, let's gran them our hell.' And by this we're dying again and again and again. Again.