Promoted with honor, labeled with pride
Mother packs, a “going away” basket
Both sides so lay claim to “God’s on “our” side?”
Live boys soon dead men in Flag draped caskets
Thy very first weapons… rocks, spears and arrows
Achievement’s of glory? Blood on thy hands
Mankind “advanced” … blasting bone from marrow
Conflict’s the fingers…of evil’s cruel hand
Ten thousand years of “civilization”
Built upon bones of those who came before
Hath savage clash spared one generation?
Do the rich, die in numbers, like the poor?
I sing this thing that men call war…then sigh
How many more, I wonder, have to die
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