Count till; oh wait sir, till twenty five and three,
eenie meenie miny mo, then a killing spree.
Dead or alive, do you know,
What you’re going to be?
Screams here, heard from there,
All you do here is flee
Rivers of bodies, streams of tanks
animal in ranks
Shells like pomegranates hurled at two,
Mother’s vermillion bleeds, so do you.
Father will go to the distant land,
Vultures grasp sister’s breast in hand.
Oh brother, what will you do?
Sun might shine one day too.
But for now flee at once
The bird will follow, the bird will protect.