War is messed up, but nobody cares.
Wives are left crying on the front porch stairs.
Their husbands are gone, far over seas dying
In a battle that's not theirs to fight, but still trying.
In the end, when you look back, won or lost,
It wasn't worth a cent of the prices it cost.
All that's left are both sides: crippled and broken;
Children lie in the street-- atrocities unspoken.
"What was the point?" You ask yourself now,
Looking back on all the things you did then. How
On earth is this going to make our lives better?
All this fighting is pointless; there must be something better.
Surely peace was in reach and lives could be spared
The horror scenes of homes burnt to rubble and marred,
But with cruelty at heart, blood thirst in our eyes,
Blinded by Pride, what we sought the whole time,
We sowed war, we reaped death, suffering 'til the last breath.
I hope you're proud of the pain you've inflicted and spent
When the smoke finally clears and there's nothing left.
Everyone that you knew is now full of contempt.
All around, empty shells-- Lives-- both taking and taken,
Lie in shambles,-- of people and guns-- left forsaken.
Was it worth it? The death and the debt that reside?
I hope you're happy, you have what you fought for: