Down, down, come on down

Follow me down to the cholera well

Senator come take my hand

Here feel the flames you have fanned

A blood-red symphony in sand

Remember that Jonestown smell

It could have been Afghanistan

The slow destruction of Sudan

Not to be found in published plans

A covert genocide

By night the US planes descend

Deals are struck with pay-roll friends

An arms bazaar that never ends

And the Russians land by morning

The militia-men are throwing dice

For a days handful of beans and rice Wiring an old soviet device

Like a claymore mine

When everything is blown to hell

They'll sit down by the cholera well

And drink its poison from mortar shells Fired-off that day

Can you feel the stomach cramps?

Two million in internment camps

We're complicit in our negligence

Of all of these holocausts