War

No nation goes to war by fate.
it always hangs on a peoples hate.
the gruesome hunger they must sate

So they went to war where they were sent
where minds and souls and hearts are rent
till their bullets and lives are utterly spent

they sing fire and flames
they rattle and roar through guns and machines,
the sound of war, of blood in heat
the whisper of shame 'cause of the friends that you leave

but one man knows peace,
is in the eye of the beholder,
and finds solace in the chaos,
and the guns whipped from their holsters
reinforcements sent to bolster
the foolhardy lost cause, to take land
from it's holder
he's not like a soldier, but more a
primordial hunter
pursued by great winged beasts that breathe
death and fire and roar like thunder.
and monsters on tracks who's gaping, glowing maw
will tear you asunder.

Thats war,
every man a hunter
and the hunted

I can see him standing there,
in the cold morning air
not nearly as cold as his wide eyed stare
looking past like you're not there
a dark mottled figure in suns glare
his prematurely gray hair
shines like spun iron,
like the makeup of his soul:
weary and tired
strong and defiant.
scary, full of dark fire on a soulless pyre
walking the wire
'twist good and evil
a cheat and a liar
a savior lifted higher,
a spire among men
a man of dire,
terrible
action

And no soldier fights 'cause gods on their side
no,
they fight for the brothers at their backs
and pray they aren't sent home in sacks.
no veteran believes in that old lie,
when bullets fly and death is nigh
as the slow soldier lies down and forever stares at the sky
asking why, why?
as he dies
Though some may look to the sky and pray
that god, and not gun, gets the final say
Or else they lose their thoughts rage and pain
burning souls deeply insane
always remember, those who are slain,
every day.
Make it not in vain.