• Day by day and year by year
    The wishmaster counts up our tears
    He has no reason; has no "whys"
    He only wants to save our lives
    "Save from what?" the children ask
    He saves us from our darkened past.
    A past of hatred, blood, and greed.
    The plant born from our evil deeds
    It won't return from whence it came
    As Wishmaster digs a fresh grave
    A grave for all the children lost
    The tears from years of Holocaust
    And Vietnam and WWII
    Though no one knows if this is true
    Except for those who wish to die
    It could be you, or even I.
    They see Wishmaster every day
    Digging little kiddies' graves
    The plant that spawned from evil seeds
    Is a tree; on lies it feeds
    The ones which flow out of our mouths
    As sharp as two-edged daggers,
    The insults that make full-grown men
    Take steps back and stagger
    And in its leaves, withered and black, anyone can see
    That everyone deserves to die
    Even you and me.
    So day by day and year by year
    Every drop of every tear
    Is carried at the shapeless side
    Of the Wishmaster, and with pride.
    So don't you laugh as the hearse goes by.
    It may be you whose next to die.