They say that all is fair in love and war
But is all fair in the war of love?
Is there temperance amidst the virile and the delicate?
Or is it just a guise shielding us from the bitter truths of love?

Dear brother of mine
Bold lawman in the making
Had a young sweetheart years apart

He was climbing up fast
With the promise of a bright future
And she would only be the start

But two summer days
Of ecstasy and pleasure
Were all it took in the name of time

For the young sweetheart
With his heart on a hook
To tear apart the cord of his precious spine

Now his reputation, his hopes, his dreams are on the line
Because of a young heart whose blood was replaced with slime
How can this happen to a man of pure heart and mind?
Such a burden to my dear brother will never be a friend of mine