At the end of my sword
Steps, and lurches toward
The plunge of the blade
Piercing skin
Facing the barrel
Crouching, sights narrowed
The sting of lead
Molten hot projectile
Baring the tide
Waves, focused on the mind
The nausea of lobotimization
Frying the insides
Looking to the sky
Machines, with precision strike
The destruction you know
Chucks of shrapnel
The terrors of war
Changing with time
Only grow more vicious,
And become more refined
Our greatest art
Will be the blank canvas
Nuclear annihilation
Has left behind