The gulls [bad word] in off the coast
 The smell of corpses passed them in
 Mass graves uncovered, must be abroad - it can't be here
 I can sense your violence, but I still don't understand
 How when the past seems dead and you've got the future
 In the palm of your hand [bad word] quick through (noble?) streets
 Where killers hide
 Our [bad word] get bricks in windows
 And foreigners get hushed-up trials
 And you're waiting for a knock at the door
 Which would tell if you spent the next few years
 Free from life attacked by petrol bombs
 The price of bread went up five pence today
 And an immigrant was kicked to death again

 And I'm scared for my life for the first time in it
 And we've known all along that a home can put your life at risk
 So I guess we'll just disperse again
 And the (...)s [bad word] off the land
 The easy targets lure them in
 (...)
 Don't be absurd, it can't be here
 Until we find a place to settle
 We'll just keep moving on
 We stay in flocks like birds, no one dares to move along
 Across a sea of bleached skulls
 Chased by death in all its forms
 Over mountains, under suns
 We shoot to kill, let's shoot for fun
 Across a desert's burning skies, we never stop to sleep or eat
 Death always finds us in the end, its (...) shadows (...) weeping
 Over hot (...) and plains, a killer wants to see us slain
 Over fields of wheat and grain, through the endless, pouring rain
 Why can we never find a safe place to land?
 And we find ourselves through God's providing hand
 At the close of every day