Not My Sons

Not My Sons

This land we love and our way of life they’re hell bent to destroy,
so blood spills in the desert sand, but it won’t spill from my boys.
War on terror must be fought until the threat is done,
flush evil out of mosques and caves, but do it without my sons.

Send soldiers into combat, deep behind the enemy lines,
please keep us safe, but don’t even think, of sending one of mine.
I grieve for all the families, their sons and daughters lost,
I support the effort and the troops, but I will not pay that cost.

I’ll move up north to Canada, perhaps Saskatchewan,
I’d nuke the fucking Middle East, before I’d send my sons.

Tolerance and compassion their philosophy forbids,
our children’s, children’s, children’s war, will be fought without my kids.
I wish we could, but withdrawing troops is suicidal advice,
we should stay the course, but selfishly, I refuse to pay my price.

I’ll load my family on a raft, drift off to new horizons,
I’d nuke the fucking Middle East, before I’d send my sons.

You say the war’s a failure, a conflict that can’t be won,
but terror hasn’t hit our soil since the attacks of nine-one-one.
Did the bad men just stop trying to strike us with their might?
Of course they haven’t, so I surmise, we must be doing something right.

Doomsday yearning clerics preach their young intolerance,
only Satan rejoices in the misery caused by archaic ignorance.
Islamic radicals spew their hate, claim the Koran they represent.
No God, Yahweh or even Allah, consecrates the slaughter of the innocent.

I’ll head down south to Mexico, where the Rio Grande runs,
I’d nuke the entire fucking Middle East before I’d send my sons.

America and our way of life they’re vowing to destroy,
so blood spills in Fallujah, instead of Illinois.
Terrorism must be fought until the threat is done,
I’d give anything for this war to end, 
just not my sons, not my sons.