Free to Produce

Goodbye yellow brick road -
hello river of oil.
No longer is it gold we want -
but what's below the soil.
You can keep what lies above
ours is beneath the sand.
Oil is where the future lies
we need it to expand.

Claiming you had WMD's
hidden in your land.
It gave us a good reason
to pretend a moral stand
We want your crude - your black gold
We want your sweat, and toil.
We want an excuse to keep your land
so we make your hot blood boil.
So fight amongst yourselves you fools
it keeps you occupied.
While we build bigger, smarter bombs
from which you cannot hide.

Your prophet is Mohamed
ours is Jesus Christ.
Our God's the same but His worship -
is simply different priced.
Here we worship money
let this be understood.
Wicked here means wonderful -
and evil is - well - good.
So you will pay with suffering -
you will pay with blood.
'Till the God almighty dollar
runs your neighbourhood.