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the war


the enemies r eyeballin each others eyez
the only thought is winning the prize
the trophy is murder one sided and more
with death tools much many and more n the store
they figure and plan the next site to strike
while puttin skull crossbones letting blood like broken dike
cheerin loud laughs at another`s last breath
and staking a flag as celebration of death
believe it or not some people who die
have never once hated or killed or even lie
it`s those souls so saddened and forced from this life
I dedicate this memory married 2 me like a wife
I post this cyber cross n memory of those
 who rented or owned land and paid thru the nose
thru blood fought 4 freedom by just living there
when ignorant bullet blew a permanant lair
made him a statistic n the next history book
that tells of his story thru the veiw of him look
that precious life snuffed out a meaning not one
tells how his life could have been an example 4 his son
but slain dad would never teach his fine boy
that life is so precious not just a toy
so sought him his peers 2 teach him the law
they taught him 2 hate 2 make a man fall
they taught him 2 kill show mercy 2 none
acquired blood taste this cyber cross son
he grew up so bitter so angry so cruel
ambition matured and he sought 2 rule
dictator became him at age 44
at 50 so bitter he started a war...

Written by Steven Cropper

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