WORDS CANNOT EXPLAIN,
ITS LIKE A KIND OF PAIN.
IN DARKNESS IT DOES RAIN,
THIS FEELING SO CLOSELY TIED TO PAIN.
WHAT IS IT?
DOES IT HAVE A NAME,
OR AM I TRAPPED IN SOME KIND OF GAME?
THE WIND SENDS A HOWL,
AND WOLVES ARE ON THE PROWL.
ATOP THIS LONELY CLIFF I FEAR BETRAYAL,
IS IT LOVE THAT WILL CAUSE ME TO FALL?
They say we fight for freedom.
Yet we've been free for quite a while.
So I will ask it:
Why are we still waging war?
What is it that we're really fighting for?
We were supposed to fight for what was right.
Although that thought causes mortal fright.
The deaths of so many are on our heads,
Loved ones, now empty beds.
Many die, and many more,
For what is right, we go to war.
Young will cry,
As their families die.
So answer me this,
Why are we having a fight,
That will only end, through mortal plight.