There were very people With nothing to do So comes the war And the deaths too. Near there was The Fertile Crescent Where the sun born happy And the wars don?t exist. People nomads Are on the heaven Dreaming with the Mesopatamia Poor then! She's dead, The man Kill her! Soooooooo! We are dead! The Fertile Crescent are like us With desert lands And places dead! We are dead! Now when I go there My soul escape, And a wont hurt One hurt that I can?t skip My face burn When I say that My soul is running Just for this fact Soooooooo! We are dead! The Fertile Crescent are like us With desert lands And places dead! We are dead!