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All hear the man who speaks, he knows much more than you

A guilty conscience that he'll feel his whole life through

& though the years have passed, his goal is still the same

To create conflict & to fan the devils flames

And after all the minions haven't learned to fight

He sends them out to be killed under foreign skies

So do thy bidding & the future's all planned out

You'll be a statistic in Satan's bodycount

Oil, Land

Changes hands

Nine times of Ten we're in the wrong

We are the chorus to deaths song

Where there's no work there is a feeling of despair

An ideal hunting ground for those who just don't care

Recruit the young to do the killing for the old

Cut out your tongue & never speak of what was sold

Inside the hurt, inside the pain, inside the guilt

Inside the brain there is a part that wanes & wilts

The power of the gun is always on your side

There is nowhere to run, nowhere that you can hide

Oil, Land

Changes Hands

Nine times of Ten we're in the wrong

We are the chorus to deaths song