The Black Cloud of Islam Roy Harper

I'm sick to the teeth of the news on the screen
Of hisbullah scum and jihad the obscene
Whose men plant the bombs and then leave feeling free
To watch women and children be killed on T.V

Which satan delivers a child a death curse
In the name of a worn out collection of verse
I've not read the book so I cannot recite
But I'd bet Salman Rushdie is just about right
Underneath the black cloud of islam

What kind of publicity needs so much blood
That's not for some sad diabolical god
Selling himself as a two-bit Macbeth
As the experts in sentencing cousins to death

And what kind of god can this be anyway
That you have to prostrate to him five times a day
With hate in your heart and a gun in your hand
Is force the only thing to understand
Underneath the black cloud of islam?

And the butchers who've got all this blood on their hands
Are the ones who need god to be stood where he stands
Blessing this kidnapping, murder and war
With books written hundreds of ages before