When we return back from war,
It is hard to see what we are fighting for,
All that violence on the sand,
Is mimicked like a mime in this land.

All the blood leaked from our veins,
With all the loss and the bitter pains,
It seams like it comes to naught,
Just a motion in the way we fought.

We see the rot in our society,
While you believe you are a deity,
And all the pleasures that you inhale,
Buys the enemy the guns for sale.

If only you could stand away and see the change,
Your breast will also fill with rage,
A few are good I will admit,
But most really makes me sick.