Flags hang limp on breezeless days
To celebrate the evil ways
In which we tear ourselves apart-
A father stolen from our heart
A brother, son, or husband dear
Gone gladly or sent over there
And all so he could return then
In pieces with his fellow men

They told us it was all just cause
And for that we should give no pause
That we should all without a thought
Give to a country we owe not
For who were they who bid us go
Hurled us above the mines below
Threw us in front of bullet’s path
Made us to feel the bombs’ bright wrath

It was their cause and none of mine
Yet I am here within my pine
And they are still quite fat and plump
Still sitting on their lazy rump
They would not ever dare to go
Where I have been and where I know
And so the cowards send instead
Whole families to wind up dead
A man without a hint of choice
A child without a father’s voice
A parent’s loss for only son
A lover’s grief without her one

I look around and all I see
Are my brethren, now just like me
Laid down within this curséd dirt
With markers that don’t ease the hurt
And flowers plucked in height of bloom
Chopped down like us and sent to doom
And little flags made god-knows-where
Symbolic of their prétend care

How could our uncle treat us so
How could he blindly make us go
Where there is nothing left to gain
Except an early death and pain
And all for what, for who- for war?
War never ends, there’s always more.