| It’s a brushfire spreading, feeding as it moves | 
| It’s a disappeared glacier, it’s an airborne flu | 
| It’s your disbelieving eyes locked in concrete miles | 
| It’s your yawning conscious and your lawyer’s smile | 
| It’s an occupied country, foaming at the mouth | 
| No smoking gun, no mushroom cloud | 
| It’s a military mother with a boy in hell | 
| And it’s a flag draped casket down an oil well | 
| It’s an Argentina school girl, gagged and bound | 
| It’s a torture camp, it’s a long way down | 
| It’s the constant brace and shock of now | 
| It’s the whole damn world turned inside out, all right | 
| It’s a march to extinction with your god in step | 
| It’s his name in your mouth, it’s his cross on your neck | 
| It’s a farm boy sprinting over desert dirt | 
| And he’s panting the 'Our Father' in staccato spurts | 
| Now that’s his automatic rifle and it tells no lies | 
| That’s his truth in your stomach, it’s no alibi | 
| But the trouble lies on the other side | 
| With an equal truth prepping for his holy night | 
| He sees his crescent and the star in the virgin sky | 
| He hears the call of milk and honey from the afterlife | 
| And as he eases to the check point, he is calm and sure | 
| It’s collateral damage, it’s the cost of war | 
| It’s another bag of bones for the gods to sort | 
| It’s just another bag of bones for the gods to sort | 
| It’s the species disappearing, all the birds fly south | 
| In a January heat wave and a pulsing crowd | 
| It’s an African militia, kids with sub machines | 
| It’s a conflict diamond on your bride to be | 
| It’s the dispossessed lining up every gate | 
| It’s the facts worth facing, faced way too late | 
| It’s the mission of modernity, go get what’s yours' | 
| 'Til there’s nothing leftover to get no more | 
| And it’s not what were owed but it’s what we’ve earned | 
| And it’s closer than we realized that it’s time now, to burn | 
| It’s time now to burn | 
| Oh, it’s time now to burn |