prettygiirlstuff

[prettygiirlstuff]

Not every soldier was born to fight.

They lay in the cold forest, their government has abandoned them.

They wipe the blood of of the deceased, friends, comrades, children, women, all dead, lifeless.

Wondering who'll be next, gun shoots are heard nearby.

Not every soldier was born to fight.

They think back to how life was before, before this treacherous war.

Before death with it's scythe came just as often.

Poets, painters, musicians, their dreams seem so distant as they stand in their uniforms.

Mathematicians, physicists, scientists, they recall as they load their guns.

War is violent, war is death.

It is to sacrifice yourself for a battle, not of justice, but of pride.

Not every soldier was born to fight.

Women, children, animals, nobody is spared in the war, nobody is immune to it.

War doesn't only take lives. It takes futures, dreams, hope, and tramples over it with a flag.

Who will remember you? Who benefits from this violence?

They, who sit in their chairs, with their nose held high in the air.

They, who could not care less about your comrades death, your pain, the horrors you've seen.

They who in return of the blood spilt, promise you medals, fame, riches.

They are right, the medals oh the riches oh the fame of the nation hero.

You will receive it courageous soldier,

Upon your death that is.

Not every soldier was born to fight.