Twin terrors pack heat to melt the defenseless
Who pack pen and pad unprepared for the senseless
Violence stealing their lives for jihad
Crimson ink spills in the name of a god
Who doubtful they know but still play the part
As if bloodlust could thrust from a purified heart.

Fault you fiends not, for almighty passion
But to fight holy war’s to receive but a ration
Of truth from the righteous, omniscient Judge
In the true courts of mercy even wicked are loved.

For your fervor is fueled for a judge most unkind
Who can’t pitch true love thus bewitching your mind
You reach out to pummel the poor infidel
Who no less deserves Paradise than you deserve Hell.

True love reaches out bearing arms open wide
As blood from His passion pours out from His side
Crying out to the nations the holy war’s through
You weren’t tuned to that station so your passion was skewed
What they printed offended, left your judgment suspended
Yet you missed the fine print of the Prophet upended
For His radical response to your foes at Hebdo
“Forgive them Father, they know not what they do.”