All hear the man who speaks, he knows much more than you
A guilty conscience that he'll feel his whole life through
And though the years have passed, his goal is still the same
To create conflict & to fan the devils flames
And after all the minions haven't learned to fight
He sends them out to be killed under foreign skies
So do thy bidding & the future's all planned out
You'll be a statistic in Satan's bodycount
Oil, Land
Changes hands
Nine times of Ten we're in the wrong
We are the chorus to deaths song
Where there's no work there is a feeling of despair
An ideal hunting ground for those who just don't care
Recruit the young to do the killing for the old
Cut out your tongue & never speak of what was sold
Inside the hurt, inside the pain, inside the guilt
Inside the brain there is a part that wanes & wilts
The power of the gun is always on your side
There is nowhere to run, nowhere that you can hide