In the tumult of civil discord,
the laws of society lose their force,
and their place is seldom supplied
by those of humanity.
The ardor of contention,
the pride of victory, the despair of success,
the memory of past injuries,
and the fear of future dangers,
all contribute to inflame the mind,
and to silence the voice of pity.
From such motives almost every page of history
has been stained with civil blood.
[D-minor strumming, Here come the jet fighters!]
Bombs fill the air with flying bits of metal.
Burning gasoline turns the ground to fire!
A hell of flesh and blood, bones and guts,
seared by flame and churned to dust.
[Repeat D-minor picking verses, D-minor strumming parts]