Psychotic or self-deluded They fall for an ideal And when the world intrudes To denude them of their will
They march off, stars aligning From that blind spot in their minds Where terror and the hopes of dying Occupy their time
Call it madness or a bad prescription You can't change their views They swear by an old religion Of torture and abuse
What once escaped their notice Stands out before their eyes The burning towers and bleeding flowers That only infidels decry
You can't dismiss this as superstition Or a latent hunger for the West And it's more than just poor nutrition When they're convinced their God's the best
