Spectator

They are coming, coming!
Lord
Who, who?
Who are coming, coming, my son?
Spectator
They, they are coming,
They are coming, Sire!
Lord
Who, who, my son,
Who, who are they, who are they coming?
Spectator
They are, they are, Sire, the Talibans,
The Talibans hurly-burly people!
Lord
Who, who, my son,
Who, who are they coming, my son?
Spectator
The Talibans, the Talibans are,
The hurly-burly turbaned and in kurta and pyjamas coming.
Lord
Why, why are they coming,
Why, why, my son?
Spectator
Hide, hide You, Sires,
Hide, hide You, my Sires!
Lord
Why, why, my son,
Why, why are you, my son?
Spectator
They will, they will break You,break You, My God,
They will, they will not spare You even!
Lord
Let them, let them come, my son,
Let them, let them!
Spectator
God, God, hide You, hide You,
They here, here with guns, mortars, shells, axes and hammers!
Lord
Let them, let them, my son,
Let them, let them be with!
The Public Viewing
The Talibans breaking, breaking with cannons, mortars and shells,
Hammers and axes the BamiyanBuddhas,
Buddhas, Buddhas under the shadow of the guns.
Oracles Heard
After the break-up heavens cursing, cursing the Talibans,
You will, you will sleep no more, no more,
O satanic people, devilish and demoniac people,
You will lose the peace of mind and will go bad!
As You Sow, So You Reap
The clusters bombs falling, falling over
And the Talibans running, running for cover,
The most satanic and misanthropic people.