Fools

Dreams winding, blood
spare our lives claim our land
yes master of disaster
give us blood
yes master, uncle Sam
give us some

Too sure for yourself you are
Do you know where you march?
Death will come,
when you enter their land
the red button will be pressed
with brains and blood you are obsessed

No Gods have mercy,
they don't know
what they fight for
neither side

The game of the fools
they play
Gods have mercy on them
they are just family men
Why should they die?

Simple puppets grown in stone
let them live and kill their leaders
kill their leaders' masters
Not them...
Have petty on their children
Have petty on their wives

Too soon to leave this world
Too tired to shelter them from the bombs
Get out fight your leaders..all of you
Their name is death
they play the game of money
you fight for family and country
they tell you so
yet you fight for their masters

Get back.....
Fly away....

No more guns and bloodshed
All of you are wrong
and so right...

So fight..and die...

We are all going to get in this mess anyway
My land is going to rise in number four
War, war, war cannot be avoided

Still..as the lunas say
You can't make an omelet
without breaking some eggs

Fools.....