Seasons Of Terrorism

Springtime and the killing is here
The bloodshed will never disappear
Mercenaries of power and might
Kill each other on either side
Summer comes and it is all the same people
Slaughtered, wounded, and maimed
Sunny skies above deceive
No happiness for those who grieve

Fall is here and the leaves
Are red like the blood running from the dead
Bombs blowing up every place
Sawed-off shotgun in your face
Winter snow upon the land children
Dead by terrorist hands
The count higher than the year
Before it is Spring again, let us kill some more
These are the seasons of terrorism
These are the seasons of terrorism