Seff vi Britannia
09-09-2007, 09:39 PM
Seff volume #1, #6. :D
The stub in my mouth idly drops to the floor,
Stretch my shoulders and sigh, for my rest is no more.
I turn off the safety, strap on my gear,
With these angels beside me i have nothing to fear,
Click-Cluck, go the wheels of war.
I can only predict a mundane ending,
greatly elaborated in the tabloids pending.
The poet and prose - singing my name
But I will know the truth, when i'm stricken and lame.
Click-Cluck, go the wheels of war.
My angels, my comrades, those who keep me.
Subordinates, friends, with glory fleeting.
Nothing just in the world that we stay,
Little do we fight for, yet we do what we may.
Click-Cluck, go the wheels of war.
The man in Whitehall sips his drink in trepidation.
"What news from the front, what news for the nation?"
I'll tell him what news, if he came here himself
He cowers in his office behind the phone on his shelf.
Click-Cluck, go the wheels of war.
Fighting for economy, for "Freedom." For "Truth."
Fighting for hypocrisy, for lies and a noose.
And if we were to stop? The ones who perish,
We reject the ideals and we sit back with relish.
The politician can't have his war,
And the bankers won't fret no more.
Foreign relations can sort it themself,
And the aging generals can watch their health,
For we, the soldiers, shall fall no more.
The stub in my mouth idly drops to the floor,
Stretch my shoulders and sigh, for my rest is no more.
I turn off the safety, strap on my gear,
With these angels beside me i have nothing to fear,
Click-Cluck, go the wheels of war.
I can only predict a mundane ending,
greatly elaborated in the tabloids pending.
The poet and prose - singing my name
But I will know the truth, when i'm stricken and lame.
Click-Cluck, go the wheels of war.
My angels, my comrades, those who keep me.
Subordinates, friends, with glory fleeting.
Nothing just in the world that we stay,
Little do we fight for, yet we do what we may.
Click-Cluck, go the wheels of war.
The man in Whitehall sips his drink in trepidation.
"What news from the front, what news for the nation?"
I'll tell him what news, if he came here himself
He cowers in his office behind the phone on his shelf.
Click-Cluck, go the wheels of war.
Fighting for economy, for "Freedom." For "Truth."
Fighting for hypocrisy, for lies and a noose.
And if we were to stop? The ones who perish,
We reject the ideals and we sit back with relish.
The politician can't have his war,
And the bankers won't fret no more.
Foreign relations can sort it themself,
And the aging generals can watch their health,
For we, the soldiers, shall fall no more.