Baghdad

Rip it up, tear it down
 Who will own this fight?
 Spitting bombs across the great divide
 Sent arrows, broken arrows, flaming arrows
 Right into the heart of the city tonight
 Apocalyptic pockmarks on the stretched out soul
 Of a city now a monstrous canker, behold
 Billowing smoke against the twilight sky
 While the innocent suffer, weep and cry out
 There is nothing more this time
 Just the stench of rank decay
 There is nothing more this time
 And what price were you willing to pay?
 Tell me, does your end justify the means?
 Scythe in hand, we reap what sprung from bitter seeds
 Tell me, will our hands ever be clean?
 There is nothing more this time
 Just the stench of rank decay (decay)
 There is nothing more this time
 And what price were you willing to pay? (To pay?)
 The wicked sleep in their split-level homes
 Content with lies they're fed and doing what they're told
 Living lives of excess with paranoid minds
 Terror wrought in their name, and yet inherently blind
 Rip it up, tear it down
 What burden this fight?
 Talking heads spew forth manufactured lies
 And the zombie consumers work nine to five
 While this fatal infraction eclipses the light
 Apocalyptic pockmarks on the stretched out soul
 Of a city now a monstrous canker, behold
 Billowing smoke against the twilight sky
 While the innocent suffer, weep and cry out
 Tell me, does the end justify the means?
 Scythes in hand, we reap what sprung from bitter seeds
 Tell me, will my hands ever be clean?
 Tell me, will my hands ever be clean?