Holy War - Lyrics - Abney Park
Abney Park is situated in Stoke Newington, London, England. It is a 13ha park dating from just before 1700, named after Lady Mary Abney and associated with Dr Isaac Watts. In the early 18th century, the park was accessed via the frontages and gardens of two large mansions â her own manor house , and the neighbouring Fleetwood House. Both mansions fronted onto Church Street in what was then a quiet Nonconformist village.
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Death hue falling on the faces of the streets' lost children as the mortar fire broke in
Nights cold, slipping through the cracks--breaking through the walls of crumbling plaster
Hunger gnaws, feel its claws but the pain of a bullet would burn much hotter
In the spotlight mounted on the cannon of the tank that prowls
Holy war
Oh, deliver me
Rest my fear
I cannot see
Nameless, but I know the faces of the kids I slept in Jezebel's lair with
Thoughtless, breaking my bread 'tween the mine fields flowers and gullies with daisies
Sometimes I can find some rations that a soldier let fall when the wind of life left him
And sometimes I can find a gun or a pistol or a knife to use
Holy war
Oh, deliver me
Rest my fear
I cannot see
My eyes are blind
My body is lame
My family is gone
In my god's name
A holy war
...a winter the U.N. High Commission for Refugees says will be especially harsh...
...she's living in a borrowed room after her house and fields were burned in fighting between the Taliban and the Northern Alliance...
...[speaking in foreign language]...
...we need to feed our children...
Nameless, faceless, but a tear and a dollar won't buy my justice
Fearless, clothed less then a war torn child should sleep or focus
Once I watched as a cannon shot fell through the stained glass window of a church on my street
Once I sat on a steeple now laying in the church yard's playground
Holy war
Oh, deliver me
Rest my fear
I cannot see
My eyes are blind
My body is lame
My family is gone
In my god's name
A holy war
...in an apparent increase in hostilities, artillery explosions could be heard coming from the mountains, thirty miles north of the city...
...her children helping her, she carried the precious goods into their room on the outskirts of Jaffa, but finding the food to cook is a different story...
...people bleed to death. Dispossessed from over 20 years of war and upheaval...
...as evening fell, Taliban jets could be seen racing across the far north side, flying northward to the front lines of the ongoing civil war with their foe, the Northern Alliance...
...as fear of military conflict grows, so too does the desperation of the Afghan refugees...
