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Cyclical dementia at the button of warheads.
Battered and beaten fish sticks made of refugee kids.
Rolled up and spun cotton candy collateral damage.
Follies and foils of fighting mismanaged.
Manage; the chaos flux of post-war wrap up, do your duty then leave a megaton of shit.

The killing fields that makes it real, slabs of bodies making vista horror shows.
Macabre merry-go-rounds standing still, rooted cadavers soon to be plucked.
Heroes and purple hearts flourishing in the aftermath, forget the stiffs that sacrificed.

Golden rule on dead ears, vicarious generals and politicians throwing jeers, living on borrowed time from the general infantry.
Makers and shakers signing away death sentences with flicks of the wrist and wry smiles on their lips.
These nefarious plans coming to fruition and who but the next gen must pay for them.
Sinking in revenge for something they didn’t do, undone by slighted youth in revolt.

The brainwashed bystanders viewing unearthly destruction, sights burned into memory never to be cleaned.
Scars so deep, psyche cracks on the way turning sour on ripe youth.
Counterclock oranges babbling vendettas of uprooted hate. Longstanding quarrels coming out of the dingy cave.
Never forget on bitter tongues soaking in curses and violent verses.

Who told them of righteous revenge? Who taught them of vile retaliation?
The pedantic pedagogues of sickly warmongering, tongue-lashing serpents with scales of golden hue.
They say they know the secret word from their tainted point of view.
The book of promises turns to ashen debt.
New kids on the bazaar must pay their blood dues.
No chance for a life, soldiers of misfortune, call of duty desert babes.