War Supply

War. The ultimate. The pinnacle of friend or foe
Always declared by the high and fought out by the low
Elevated to the state of honourable feud
Fought to capitulation or death. Either him or you
Cannon fodder dressed up proud to fight or even die.

Carrying cross of Christ, the star of David, Swastika or
Word of God, the hammer and the sickle or banner
Splattered with your blood. Camouflaged and drilled
You await all hell in confidence, at peace. Blown apart
One could not tell your brains from your feet.

As your spirit slips away and Earth drinks from your blood
The irony is that the last thing you'll think is "Oh my
God!".

When your
War Supply. War Supply. War Supply
Not until that mine has torn you in two you'll
Think just fucking "why".

At the bottom of the crater in a burning deaths terrain
You grab your head as if to keep yourself from goin' insane
Tracers cut a million burning tracks above your head
Staring at your support weapon, wishing that you'd dare
Just one delicate press on the trigger and it's all gone.

Ask yourself if your one life is worth spending this way
Tell me where's all glory you seek among countless young
Men slain. Indoctrinated as you are by
Church, school, government
And your command you'll think more of how your death will
Contribute and benefit your land.

In uniform you look all swell as you march off to war
From now on your damn rubber body-bag will be your style
Forever more.

War Supply. War Supply. War Supply. War Supply.

War Supply. War Supply. War Supply. War Supply
War Supply. War Supply. War Supply. Not until that
Mine has torn you in two you'll think just fucking "why".