Three bold colours ride the wind and cry out to their newfound kin    to rain down their wrath and quench this thirsty sin    Two orange explosions against a blue sky are thus replicated millions of times    and rained down on a landscape or sorrow-stricken, spellbound eyes    One soft cry from the desert's oily womb, drowned out by a sonic boom    May she rain down her sorrow like these bombs rain down her doom       They've got power on paper and hostages in citizens    at the point of a gun and at the point of a pen    Since when? And for how long will we let    the ink of the few dictate the fate of so many men and women?    We gotta do more than begin to wonder    They stamp your name on every one of those bloody blunders    They may seem quiet, but they're so immense    Those bombs won't always be safely distant thunder    But there's one huge reason why we want peace    But it's so profound that, of it, I can hardly speak    and, for it, I don't intend to speak       A flag is burned, a lesson's learned    All those hateful conventions have been deeply discerned    and this multitude of young minds are on looking    A flag is flown, a lesson's ignored    By a multitude of eyes desensitized and bored    from too many years of on looking.