War Supply Bathory

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

Cannon fodder dressed up proud to fight or even die

Carrying cross of Christ, the star of David, Swastika or
Word of God, the hammer and the sickle or banner
Splattered with your blood. Camouflaged and drilled
You await all hell in confidence, at peace. Blown apart
One could not tell your brains from your feet

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

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

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