Own hate - hate growN
Spasms of freedom, build into a gun - Fighting for the land belonging to your father, and his fathers father, yet killed when the field was seized - Daughters without fathers, sons with far less brothers, debt by death to the dictators - The rulers of decay, their way, they know only one way - The war brought forth, the one too civil, against the people of your country - Own hate, hate growN - The land, by which you are to weak, alone to stand - The have to believe, by the suffering of the innocent, the sadness in sorrow, is peace - By the driven machine, the slaughter house of death, the king of war - Victory By The Blood On Your Hands.
poem by Unic Cjonr
Added by Poetry Lover
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