There were very people
With nothing to do
So comes the war
And the deaths too.

Near there was
The Fertile Crescent
Where the sun born happy
And the wars don?t exist.

People nomads
Are on the heaven
Dreaming with the
Mesopatamia

Poor then!
She's dead,
The man
Kill her!

Soooooooo!
We are dead!
The Fertile Crescent are like us
With desert lands
And places dead!
We are dead!

Now when I go there
My soul escape,
And a wont hurt
One hurt that I can?t skip

My face burn
When I say that
My soul is running
Just for this fact

Soooooooo!
We are dead!
The Fertile Crescent are like us
With desert lands
And places dead!
We are dead!