Oh marble goddess
Standing erect like a gallows,
It is not a torch of liberty you carry!

Lower your arm!
For the Pentagon sees it a torch
To burn the fields of the world with.

And the CIA see it a sword
To behead all those who do not bow
To the gods of the "White Temple".

There are steel helmets
That should be shoes for the barefooted,
And there are shoes
That can helmet the heads of generals
Who won't stop arming hatred
Against love,
And leaders
Who strangle the world
And tune their global anthem
To the screams of children
And the cries of the wretched.

I can almost believe
That God loves a worshiper
As much as he hates the gods of the White House!

I can almost believe
That hell starts
In the lobbies of the Pentagon!

I can almost believe
That the CIA is the devil's den!

I need a rope
That stretches from Hiroshima to Baghdad
To air the clothes of the children
Drenched in their blood.

I need another rope
To stretch from Nagasaki to Alfalouja,
From Fanoom banah to the holy Najaf
To air the clothes of the loss struck mothers
Whose children's lives were the harvest
Of the Pentagon scythe.

And another rope
To stretch from Havana to Santiago
To air the pages of the black books
About the American cow boy
Leading his steel herds
To spread bloody-mocracy
Around the globe.

I need Holaco's heart
To taste the victory
Of the American liberator
After he raped that Eden flower:
Abir Qasem Hamza,
Before he embroidered her chest
With his bullets
And set the soft bodies afire
To thaw the frost still in his veins.

Whatever the miseries yet to come
Whatever the wrath of volcanoes and high rains
And the destruction they could leave behind,
The generations of tomorrow
Will surely be better than ours
For one sole reason:
Tomorrow there will not be
A dragon named:
George Bush the grandson.