|
Blood on the sand |
|
Blood on the hands |
|
Of a handful of madmen |
|
What a way to see the world |
|
Through the smeared window of a TV-Screen |
|
Technicolour assasinations |
|
Assasinations that make me scared and afraid |
|
Afraid of the streets that breed malice and hatred |
|
Those with their heads bowed to the darkness |
|
Those who can't see for the glare of the light |
|
Those without strength |
|
Who can't raise hands let alone guns |
|
Become prisoners of conscience |
|
Though not your conscience |
|
You cheer and rejoice as life trickles away |
|
Through the outlets you give in the shape of a gun |
|
Our world is slipping quickly away |
