The boom of guns rolls through the hills,
And down the smoke-filled land
Aim and fire with precision,
That soldiers sleight of hand
The bullets fly,
The brave men die
Back at home, the families cry
This is the Price of War
The foolish rise from the trenches,
The wise, low to the ground
The one thing they have in common
Is they seek and end, what cannot be found
The bullets fly,
The soldiers die
Back at home, friends pray and cry
Why do we go to war?
Why must we take up arms,
And spill blood on our beloved land?
Pick up guns, shoot and run,
When we can unite, hand in hand?
It's not fair for the rest of us
Waiting for our soldiers to come home
And then get told the bad news,
That many won't come back at all
The bullets fly,
The brave men die,
The loss of kindred
Makes the kind-hearted cry
Why must we pay the Price of War
When we don't have to fight at all?
the first recorded poem that I ever wrote. Enjoy :)
