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Strait of Silence, Drums of War
World News

Strait of Silence, Drums of War

5:27
19. März 2026
Strait of Silence, Drums of War
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Strait of Silence, Drums of War

Verse 1

Fires rose over gas hubs from Bab to Habshan’s shore, Riyadh caught the falling steel as ministers swore, The prince said timing wasn’t chance and vowed the right to act, Qatar sent the uniforms home, a vessel bled near the strait’s black crack, A chorus of states condemned the sparks on homes and plants and runways, While Paris pled for mercy on the wires, and NATO weighed the waterways.

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Chorus

Hold tight, the strait is a tourniquet on the world’s blue vein, Tankers idle, markets howl, we count our loss and blame, Truth in footnotes, thunder overhead, Who calls it urgent, who counts the dead? From Doha’s flames to DC’s door, We’re caught between the tide and war.


Verse 2

In the Senate lights, she wrote what she would not say, That Midnight Hammer crushed the core and swept the fear away, When pressed to name an urgent threat, she passed it up the stairs, As her deputy walked out, saying truth was gasping air, And far across the desert, the regime still stands but frayed, A scaffold of authority in smoke and dusk and shade.

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Verse 3

The strait grew silent, guards warned all to turn around, Lines of hulls like steel geese, stuck and ocean-bound, Crude climbed like fever, cupboards of the West unlocked, A rival to the old embargo’s ghost now stalked, A supreme vow to keep that gate closed tight through day and night, From island ports to Asian streets, the worry bit and bite, Desert pipes can’t carry all; the balance starts to sway, And every chart that flickers hints at darkening of day.

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Chorus

Hold tight, the strait is a tourniquet on the world’s blue vein, Tankers idle, markets howl, we count our loss and blame, Truth in footnotes, thunder overhead, Who calls it urgent, who counts the dead? From Doha’s flames to DC’s door, We’re caught between the tide and war.


Verse 4

Then Joe Kent laid his badge down, said we were pulled to war, Dragged by friendly hands and lobbies crowding every door, Said voices weren’t allowed to reach the hand that holds the pen, That judgment from the spyglass was muzzled in the den, He named the chorus selling storms, split the drumline clean in two, And aimed the questions back at those who swore it all was true.

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Verse 5

In Baghdad, walls remember rockets, drones that paint the sky, A militia offered a brief hush with terms they amplify: Stop the thunder over Beirut’s crowded southern maze, And spare the roofs in Iraq’s dust from midnight razor blades, They claimed a wave of buzzing wings from Jordan to the sea, And near an Aussie post in the Emirates came another plea.

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Verse 6

Now the Pentagon comes calling with a war chest without end, To feed the forges, restock thunder we already spend, They boast of targets counted high across a battered land, But on the Hill the votes grow thin, the country balks to stand, Even whispers in the West Wing doubt the whole request will soar, And every dollar on the floor becomes a vote on war.

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Final Chorus

Hold tight, the strait is a tourniquet on the world’s blue vein, Tankers idle, markets howl, we speak the loss by name, Truth in footnotes, thunder overhead, Who calls it urgent, who counts the dead? Throw wide the gate, douse the flames, still the war drum’s roar— Let the lights come back, let the truth come forth, Strait of silence, break—no more.

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