اصل بول
ENترجمہ ابھی دستیاب نہیں۔ اصل بول دکھائے جا رہے ہیں۔
Sacrifices must be made to the gods of war again
It's the grunt that pay the price and the profiteers who win.
Who brought this world of sorrow?
Who stole your tomorrow?
Far from home brought by lies, fighting on you don't know why.
Death rains drones from on high, while rats get fat good soldiers die.
They'll greet you there with open arms, you know they'll welcome you with flowers.
Lies they tell to to ease their mind, all while serving darker powers.
Who brought this world of sorrow?
Who stole your tomorrow?
Far from home brought by lies, fighting on you don't know why.
Death rains down from on high, while rats get fat good soldiers die.
The friend becomes the enemy, while a march to war begins again.
Politicians eye the polls, while the priests absolve their sins.
Who brought this world of sorrow?
Who stole your tomorrow?
