War, in this time is all the chatter,
an unwrapped present left by our fathers,
to fight and die, to keep what's ours,
before our time begin to sour.

War is the echo that awakes peace,
a brutal moral taken from beasts,
before the new world was all but seized,
to cultivate human disease.

War, the best way we have to take what's another's,
the best way to ignore a child's bother,
but if we are so far evolved,
why must war be our prime resolve?