We cradle in our arms your terror, the soldiers that you fight
Disguised as our children, they starve. Behold your enemy
Ringed around the village of the brazen infidel
As their eyes sink in, you can feel your muscles swell
Catapults throw hunger into bellies brave and small
While Kings discuss the benefits in laden banquet halls
In Mosul in northern Iraq's “no fly zone,†we saw flocks of sheep
Which had been blasted to eternity with the small child shepherds
Who tended them. No other targets in sight
You cradle in your arms the terror that will bring the
Ceiling down
Crashing on your children, the harvest of this seed
In Mosul where Jonah rests the sheep were waging war
They dared to raise their eyes when the planes above them roared
On the sands of Babylon we lay down and wept
Morning light on you! Oh, vengeance we expect