Both, in the name of another’s score
Old Men’s score settled by young bloods
The real sense for which they fight
They have not the slightest idea
The sense in this I am in search of
Must there be Guns and Bombs
When dialogue could have sufficed
Or is it to someday study some History or Philosophy
Or discuss some Diplomatic strategy?
They order advance but far behind sits their ass
They order you to slaughter your brother and call it LOYALTY
You are paid to procure new citizens of the grave
And they call it National service
What is the glory and victory in your Occupation
Oh ye camouflage zombie
When the call of duty you heed
Some fellows must be brutally evicted from Earth
Then National service you call it
Your efficiency they measure by your harvest of Corpses
You are given guns and swords
Then you multiply Orphans and Widows
Shelling, Spraying, Shooting and Bombing
Maiming, Killing just for a disagreement
Where is the sense in these?
The course must be done
By any means must be won
Like felling half a Forest
Only for a wandering pest
Thou art a classic thief of peace
In the name of National service beasts are born
Awarded MEDALS OF HONOUR and called BRAVE
Because many they have and can kill
Who can for this disease provide a pill?
After all said and done
The ignored roundtable is returned to
After all be torn down
Then senses wake up
And all to the roundtable
Fire has failed to quench fire
Now they seek Water
Peace deal; Peace deal
Cease fire; Cease fire
Again I ask, where is the sense in all these?
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