The stink of flesh and bone,
burned for a great unknown.
Torn skin and bloodied bruises,
the man with the least faith loses.

Bullets tearing through the air,
leaving behind death and despair.
Explosions lighting up the streets,
can you feel the heat?

We feast on the fight,
in the middle of the night.
But cry foul play when the enemy reacts,
to our previous attack.

Bombs filled with money,
isn't it funny?
We pay for the gore,
yet deny we love war.

Organs lay spread across the street,
decorating the battlefield.
We harvest the souls of the enemy,
with the weapons we wield.

The dust and rubble fly,
as bombs fall from the sky.
Innocent people die,
innocent babies cry.

We feast on the fight,
in the middle of the night.
But cry foul play when the enemy reacts,
to our previous attack.

Bombs filled with money,
isn't it funny?
We pay for the gore,
yet deny we love war.

Bullets,
bombs,
and blasphemy.
Money bombs,
money gone.

Bombs filled with money,
isn't it funny?
We pay for the gore,
yet deny we love war.

We love gore,
we love ******,
money gone,
we love war!