All hear the man who speaks, he knows much more than you
A guilty conscience that he will feel his whole life through
And though the years have passed, his goal is still the same
To create conflict and to fan the devils flames
And after all the minions have not learned to fight
He sends them out to be killed under foreign skies
So do thy bidding and the future is all planned out
You will be a statistic in Satan's body count
Oil, land changes hands
Nine times of ten we are in the wrong
We are the chorus to deaths song

Where there's no work there is a feeling of despair
An ideal hunting ground for those who just don't care
Recruit the young to do the killing for the old
Cut out your tongue and never speak of what was sold
Inside the hurt, inside the pain, inside the guilt
Inside the brain there is a part that wanes and wilts
The power of the gun is always on your side
There is nowhere to run, nowhere that you can hide
Oil, land changes Hands
Nine times of ten we are in the wrong
We are the chorus to deaths song

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