The land of the great book.
But I see old women on bended knee,
Crying! Their children, the war took.
Out of the desert came the voice of the zealot,
Arise sons of Lebanon,
Look! I have brought you what you had sought,
So buckle up your armor, armageddon's on.
Ah! Tyre is on fire,
Don't the flames burn bright.
The city, a funeral pyre,
And the fanatic's happy with the sight.
Ahead are the shores of the lake,
The shores of lake Galilee.
Lets bloody, the placid waters make,
Drown everyone, let no one flee.
Why give peace a chance?
Why stop the rain of rockets on Haifa?
Raise your guns and break into a dance,
The Reaper's happy with the harvest so far.
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