Iraq: Society Under Siege
dark days in arabian nights where children are raised to fight
so while I sit here in my safe life, unphased, spending days to write
there's over a million unborn soldiers trying to make their way despite
marksmen who are gun-blazin, it's hell raising, an amazing sight
to see the deacon preaching with might, shining the beacon of light
screaming "take arms and unite even if it means you'll get beaten tonight"
but there's no real leader in sight,
just concealed cheetahs weeping with fright who seek to divide
they're too weak to decide, that's why they either cheat or lie
and they're barely sneaking by cause under those robes
lies men with ambitions without any wonder or scope.
They're making speeches, teaching islam while reaching for bombs
just a bunch of leeches in ponds seeking to be a more evil saddam
And it's hard to recede into a calm
some say this is in God's hands as if their reading his palm
but the only fortune tellers in this land speak a different tongue
the biggest elephant in the room has something hidden in its trunk
and these mercenaries are land sharks who bore soldier names
firing with torture flames in crowds they were never supposed to aim
this is their land, its what they've chose to claim
its the same old game with new foes to blame
a whole society under siege, some have rose to fame
but most are toast with not even the slightest bit of bread to eat
you comply or get told to spread your feet,
then shipped to a cell with an emply bed and no threads of sheet
where they lie down and have their heads get beat
this is where the dead are meek, the living are outnumbered
and the living dead are given a number while driven to slumber
its complete chaos in this torture field, prisoners come by name
and its all chance so call this war by what it is, a numbers game.