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Thunderclouds and mortar flash
Eating the flesh of children made men
Broken dreams line the bed
this river of red
No angels carry dead to God
as Ravens pick your friends
and enemies corpse bleeds slow drips
as flesh rips
when naked before the face of doom
no uniform sets us apart
all die with the same regrets
same lost bets
this battle cannot be won at all
the War a waste of human toil
this taste of hatred in my wrath
a dead end Path
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Holding onto anger is like grasping a hot coal with the intent of throwing it at someone else; you are the one who gets burned. - Buddha
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