The Dirty Bomb To Come

The Dirty Bomb to Come

/ They quote old scrolls / in the desert heat,
/ Faith forges bombs / that their gods repeat,
/ / Little Satan strikes / with a righteous plea,
/ / Great Satan cheers / from across the sea.
/ Holy mound gleams / 'neath the morning sun,
/ Rabbis pray hard / for the wall to run,
/ / "Never again," / echoes through the stone,
/ / Strike them first / ere they claim their own.
/ Tehran roars back / with the ancient fire,
/ "Zion's puppets / in empire's mire,"
/ / Great Satan looms / with axis-of-evil ink,
/ / Little Satan bites / on the war's cruel brink.
/ Three faiths collide / on the selfsame sand,
/ Each with a book / and a trigger hand,
/ / Scriptures of fire / from the heavens fall,
/ / Burning earth black / poisoned waters call.
/ Wormwood star drops / makes the rivers die,
/ Unleavened days / when the sky lets fly,
/ / Fire from above / like the plagues of old,
/ / Bread in their mouths / as the future's sold.
/ Your holy place / becomes ground zero,
/ Geiger ticks loud / in the afterglow,
/ / Still they wait / but no biblical hero,
/ / Faith's empty throne / in the fallout snow.
/ You decorate bombs / with the faces of men,
/ Saints on the shells / to absolve the sin,
/ / Drop on kindergartens / sting them again,
/ / Little ones shredded / in the prophet's pen.
/ School of children / all became zero,
/ Desks into dust / tiny shoes a hero,
/ / Chalkboard prayers / smeared in crimson flow,
/ / Still they wait / but no biblical hero.
/ No god descends / no messiah wakes,
/ Just human rage / and the ground that shakes,
/ / Dirty bomb dust / on the wailing stone,
/ / Holy mound glows / in radiation's throne.
/ Ezekiel's hail / sulfur brimstone rain,
/ Revelation smoke / turns the pure to pain,
/ / They built the fate / that the pages named,
/ / Atheist's shrug / as the world is flamed.
/ Panic in streets / cancer years away,
/ Lungs fill with ash / bones decay to gray,
/ / Blast rips the flesh / but the spirit stays,
/ / Waiting for signs / in the end-time haze.
/ One-way track laid / by belief's blind train,
/ Prophecies carved / now they chase the pain,
/ / No heaven calls / just the mortal game,
/ / Dirty bomb comes / and they shout its name.

Math rock. Low range vocals . 
Cello, middle eastern, female