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