Thunderclouds pass to reveal the sun,
Yet pools of water still remain,
A shot is fired from a soldier’s gun,
As another falls in dampened pain
Disfigured bodies lay in the field
All but recognized by their friends in life
What was this day supposed to yield?
A hilltop, a valley, a mourning wife?
Tanks and artillery play their own song
To faceless targets with receiving ears
The instruments know no right from wrong
Yet play louder and louder to increasing fears
Each side feels the same of the war
And at each other they’ll continue to strike
Whene’er they feel needs to even the score
They ignore the fact that they’re so much alike.
When will man notice his greatest mistake
That problems are solved in life and not death
How many centuries could it possibly take
To lay down our weapons and not save our breath?