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Holy War
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Death hue falling on the faces of the streets' lost children as the mortar fire broke in Nights cold, slipping through the cracks--breaking through the walls of crumbling plaster Hunger gnaws, feel its claws but the pain of a bullet would burn much hotter In the spotlight mounted on the cannon of the tank that prowls Holy war Oh, deliver me Rest my fear I cannot see Nameless, but I know the faces of the kids I slept in Jezebel's lair with Thoughtless, breaking my bread 'tween the mine fields flowers and gullies with daisies Sometimes I can find some rations that a soldier let fall when the wind of life left him And sometimes I can find a gun or a pistol or a knife to use Holy war Oh, deliver me Rest my fear I cannot see My eyes are blind My body is lame My family is gone In my god's name A holy war ...a winter the U.N. High Commission for Refugees says will be especially harsh... ...she's living in a borrowed room after her house and fields were burned in fighting between the Taliban and the Northern Alliance... ...[speaking in foreign language]... ...we need to feed our children...

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