Red Sands — текст песни (Clark Anne)

Blood on the sand
Blood on the hands
of a handful of madman
What a way to see the world
Through the smeared window of a TV-Screen
Technicolour assasinations
Assasinations that make me scared and afraid
Afraid of the streets that breed malice and hatred
Those with their heads bowed to the darkness
Those who can`t see for the glave of the light
Those without strength
Who can`t raise hands yet alone guns
Become prisoners of concience
Though not your concience
You cheer and rejoice as life trickles away
Through the outlets you give in the shape of a gun
Our world is slipping quickly away