Luyện nghe bài hát War Supply

War. The ultimate. The of friend or foe.
Always declared by the high and out by the low.
Elevated to the state of feud.
Fought to capitulation or death. him or you.

Cannon fodder dressed up proud to fight or die.

Carrying of Christ, the star of David, Swastika or
word of God, the hammer and the sickle or
with your blood. Camouflaged and drilled
you await all in confidence, at peace. Blown apart,
one not tell your brains from your feet.

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

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

At the bottom of the crater in a burning terrain.
You grab your head as if to keep yourself from insane.
Tracers cut a million tracks above your head.
Staring at your weapon, wishing that you'd dare.

Just one delicate on the trigger and it's all gone.

Ask if your one life is worth spending this way.
Tell me where's all glory you seek among young
men slain. Indoctrinated as you are by church, school,
and your command you'll think more of how death
will contribute and your land.

In uniform you all swell as you march off to war.
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. Not until
mine has torn you in two you'll think fucking "why".