Mar 2019
Blood spilled
Tears streamed
But no matter how much you beg on your knees
That’s what war can be
The child cried as his mother’s body lied
With the building burning to ashes
Ashes to the ground, as you hear the child plea
But alas that’s what war can be
The man strangled out cries
As his dying breaths suffocated
Underneath the collapsed building, trying to flee
But alas that’s what war can be
Remember the father who starved himself so his children could eat?
Who had been stripped from his luxury?
His happiness, his love? Who wanted to be free?
Is that what war can be?
What about the brother?
Who lost his leg, saving his sister from a shooter?
What about the sister?
Who died so that her brother could survive his gun inflicted blister?
What about the children?
Who think the parents went to the store?
Only to have the parents in a Ranger’s view
Lying on the ground, blood seeping through
What about the men and women?
Lined up, not knowing their final words
Tears prickling, not being able to see
Is that what you want your people to see?
But that’s all fine
Get the victims in a line
For it’s all for honor
For it’s all for power
What do you think
Goes through the people’s heads?
Oh how great is our country,
For being torn to shreds?
Or oh it’s fine your son died,
Even if you had cried
All this bloodshed is just insignificant clatter
to such an elite matter
What about the bloodshed?
The dead families?
The orphans?
The starvation?
The pain, the agony?
The tears?
The lost homes?
The children living in fear?
The bonds broken?
Is it all worth ego?
While you bet the lives like a gambling casino?
Imagine suffocating slowly and painfully, still having so much to do
Imagine watching your mother die, right after she attended the stew
Imagine holding your child, trying hard to erase all doubt
Imagine living a life, where nothing goes right and about
Imagine seeing your school friends cry
While blood trickles from your thigh
So go on with your slaughter
But remember the mother
Every eye you made shed salty water
The sister
The brother
The father
The farmer
The doctor
The peasant
The teacher
The student
So hold your ****** weapons up high
But remember
That once blood is on the hands
it never fades or becomes dry
Tears streamed
But no matter how much you beg on your knees
That’s what war can be
The child cried as his mother’s body lied
With the building burning to ashes
Ashes to the ground, as you hear the child plea
But alas that’s what war can be
The man strangled out cries
As his dying breaths suffocated
Underneath the collapsed building, trying to flee
But alas that’s what war can be
Remember the father who starved himself so his children could eat?
Who had been stripped from his luxury?
His happiness, his love? Who wanted to be free?
Is that what war can be?
What about the brother?
Who lost his leg, saving his sister from a shooter?
What about the sister?
Who died so that her brother could survive his gun inflicted blister?
What about the children?
Who think the parents went to the store?
Only to have the parents in a Ranger’s view
Lying on the ground, blood seeping through
What about the men and women?
Lined up, not knowing their final words
Tears prickling, not being able to see
Is that what you want your people to see?
But that’s all fine
Get the victims in a line
For it’s all for honor
For it’s all for power
What do you think
Goes through the people’s heads?
Oh how great is our country,
For being torn to shreds?
Or oh it’s fine your son died,
Even if you had cried
All this bloodshed is just insignificant clatter
to such an elite matter
What about the bloodshed?
The dead families?
The orphans?
The starvation?
The pain, the agony?
The tears?
The lost homes?
The children living in fear?
The bonds broken?
Is it all worth ego?
While you bet the lives like a gambling casino?
Imagine suffocating slowly and painfully, still having so much to do
Imagine watching your mother die, right after she attended the stew
Imagine holding your child, trying hard to erase all doubt
Imagine living a life, where nothing goes right and about
Imagine seeing your school friends cry
While blood trickles from your thigh
So go on with your slaughter
But remember the mother
Every eye you made shed salty water
The sister
The brother
The father
The farmer
The doctor
The peasant
The teacher
The student
So hold your ****** weapons up high
But remember
That once blood is on the hands
it never fades or becomes dry
