Blow your human trumpets,
Through your guns & weapon,
Shed the blood of your brother,
To attain your freedom.

I’ll join your troop,
Paint my hand red,
Put on the god band-aid,
**** some more.

**** our children,
Stain our women,
Turn your humans dead,
Chastise humanity,
And justify it with mud,

Does means justify the end?
When that means results into the tragic end.
Cost of your freedom,
Is the price of their blood,
Different motives yet similar end.