Baghdad Songtext

There is nothing more this time
And what price are you willing to pay?

Tell me, does your end justify the means?
Scythe in hand, we reap what sprung from bitter seeds
Tell me, will our hands ever be clean?

There is nothing more this time
Just the stench of a rank decay!
There is nothing more this time
And what price are you willing to pay?
The wicked sleep in their split-level homes
Content with the lies they're fed and doing what they're told
Living lives of excess with paranoid minds
Terror wrought in their name, and yet inherently blind

Rip it up, tear it down, what burden this fight?
Talking heads spew forth manufactured lies
And the zombie consumers work nine to five
While this fatal infraction eclipses the light Apocalyptic pockmarks on a stretched-out soul
Of a city now a monstrous canker, behold
The billowing smoke against a twilight sky
While the innocent suffer, weep, and cry out

Tell me, does your end justify the means?
Scythe in hand, we reap what sprung from bitter seeds
Tell me, will our hands ever be clean?

Tell me, will our hands ever be clean?