Faroes

Why is it coastal waters
And mountainous inclines
Sandy beaches rolling tides
Really all these signs
Of natures gifts of beauty
Of wonderful clean air
Of harmony of being
That its people
all can share

Are given to the killing
To the murderous intent
To a bloodbath on the wondrous fjords
A peculiar bent
Peculiar in so many ways
A created battlefield
Of slaughter takes place daily
Where weaponry they weild

Where natures special creatures
Are hounded into and
People tear into the surf
And the warring factions fanned
Blood is then deposited all around the shore
The sea runs red with sinew
With blood and ugliness galore

Creation gives such splendour
To an island people who
Should show respect
And reflect
On the landscape which is true
But each cultural enactment
Of the blood and guts you spill
Of the vibrations and the evil
From the angels that you kill

Pregnant mothers torn apart
Their babies thrown in bins
Your cowardly armies leap into the surf
And we watch their fins
Thrashing in the water being beaten up and torn
Dying with such sadness
Even the unborn

And the bluest panorama
Becomes a battlefield
Blood flows every which way
Death is not concealed
Freedom for the wild souls
Is stolenclean away
The whole pod is slaughtered
At the end of the day.