I rise, wipe off the room grab my box-cutter,
who would know within days I woul make the stocks-stutter,
Enter the Airport, find my brothers of Allah, say a prayer,
Americas seen bio weapons, never seen it from the air,
on the flight we fight the captains, with knives not mac-tens,
Stupid USA, on air flights its legal to have-them,
Security is no where, theyd never think we dare,
and America still wont catch Osama...Hiding in his Lair,
Now theyre arrogance is turning to fear, we steer to park it,
towards the twin towers, landmarks that make a great target,
Business is usual down on the streets, NYC never sleeps,
thats just a nickname, now they have nightmares...we play for keeps,
two other planes have been hijacked and pirated,
its a good thing Osama payed so we could pilot-it,
one hits, the other is crashed is Pennsylvania, we wont fail,
poeple are jumping, praying, running, next theres anthrax in the mail,
So as we near our destination, we make preperations,
pray to allah, beg for reperations, not seperation,
And as the plane hits I hear screaming, I feel Nirvana,
and rise from my pilots chair....To meet Allah...


and its like that.

*grammar fellas, edited for grammer*