Flight 103 (December 21, 1988)
On the darkest winter evening,
High above the Scottish sky,
1-0-3 was homeward winging.
Someone knew all aboard would die.
Six miles high, it detonated,
Raining fire on Lockerbie.
Somewhere someone celebrated
At the death of 1-0-3.
Carry home our sons and daughters.
Lay them down and sing a hymn.
Never more will they come see us;
They must wait until we go to them.
They sleep in a silent city
In their houses, six feet long,
Leaving us just rage and pity
And no way to right this wrong.
Someone called a TV station,
Claiming credit for this deed.
He said he would build a nation
After his homeland was freed.
Carry home our sons and daughters….
Cain slew Abel, his own brother,
Teaching down through history,
He who murders, kills his brother.
No one ever is set free.
Ishmael was Isaac’s brother,
Both born in the desert sand.
Still they fight with one another.
Bloodstains spread from their homeland.
Yes, goodbye to sons and daughters.
We have all lost family.
Must they die because two brothers
Keep reliving ancient history?
After 34 years, the man suspected of building the bomb that brought down Flight 103, killing 270 people, everyone on board, as well as people on the ground, has finally been arrested.
You may hear this song on the CD, “Breakin’ the Rules,” by the Opossums of Truth: Scientific Gospel Productions, 2009