By Parson Thru
Soldier! Where are you going
with that wreath?
Give it to her! She that grieves
beside the portraits of her sons.
Gunner! Lay your bugle down
to the cries of those who tried
in vain to flee your guns.
Airman! Throw your petals
to the wind
so we can watch them scatter
like the flesh beneath your bombs.
Oh, humanity! What is this
What wickedness we glory
with the beating of your drums.