Quick March

There's some defence meeting thing in town, and the place is swarming with pro-peace protesters and mounted police.
Got me thinking...


Here's a better poem, written by James Hetfield:

Disposable Heroes

Bodies fill the fields I see, hungry heroes end.
No one to play soldier now, no one to pretend.
Running blind through killing fields, bred to kill them all.
Victim of what said should be,
A servant till I fall.

Soldier boy, made of clay,
Now an empty shell.
Twenty one, only son,
But he served us well.
Bred to kill, not to care,
Do just as we say.
Finished here, Greetings Death,
He's yours to take away.

Back to the front
You will do, what I say, when I say
Back to the front
You will die, when I say, you must die
Back to the front.
You coward.
You servant.
You blindman.

Barking of machinegun fire, does nothing to me now.
Sounding of the clock that ticks, get used to it somehow.
More a man, more stripes you wear, glory seeker trends.
Bodies fill the fields I see,
The slaughter never ends.

Why, am I dying?
Kill, have no fear.
Lie, live off lying.
Hell, Hell is here.

I was born for dying...

Life planned out before my birth, nothing could I say.
Had no chance to see myself, moulded day by day.
Looking back I realize, nothing have I done.
Left to die with only friend,
Alone I clench my gun.