Afraid
Afraid of what you're making now.

It's far too deep, the trench you're in.
You've made your toy for the motherland.
The invention of the century
to make some cheap electricity.
Nuclear power was set to be
a killer thing for the military.
Never thought you'd be forced to sell
your little pet to the government.


And bodies go up, and bodies come down,
and bodies, they fly around.


So now they use your wretched toy
to claim the worlds they do not own.
So the smile : "We're satisfied.
One million dead, some paralized."


And now, we stand in front of the graves,
the graves of the victims.
Having survived is not a blessing,
but a burden they have to carry.
And now, we honour them,
with our sympathy,
but you've killed them, with your fantasy.

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