The War Of The Flies کے بول

In late spring or early summer The annual invasion begins As the maggots grow restless The wings hatch from their skin An imminent security breach The airborne creature from within The growing numbers accumulate For a battle they seem to win They penetrate the living quarters From every access point they come Their defiance of repeated warnings The war machine will soon run The war of the flies We will fight until the end The war battle cry Massacre we will send They gather at the front lines Inside the walls of the garage There they meet their timely death With a swift swatting barrage Their bodies litter the floor From conventional warfare The warning still not heeded So the sticky traps will ensnare At their level for all to see The flies fall prey or leave One by one they fall down To their death on the ground