Oh, child, sing, you sing
Sing for the death that will receive you
Oh, god, he does not wait
Oh, god has packed his things and left some time ago

Children, raise your hands into the air
And form them into fists
And throw your grenades and such everywhere

I will give you a gun
I will give you a gun
To shoot your brothers down
I will give you a gun
I will give you a gun
Go on and shoot your brothers down