The soldiers went out to war that day
to fight
to die.
they say boys became men that day
their boots full of mud
the stench of blood in the air
the machinery of death grinding into gear
their hearts drunk on tales of glory,
their minds drowning on a sea of fear

according to some these men were the greatest
the best this land has produced.
maybe they were, how should we know
they fought they died
a few survived
we’ll never know, we’ll never learn.

we’re told they were heroes
they killed and did their duty
they fought and died for us we’re told
for our nation, for our way of life,
for the ways and mistakes of the old.

borders are lines we scorch across the bleeding earth.
flags are tattered rags we flutter to give meaning to meaningless lives
an identity to the anonymous person who has been robbed of all
by the sacred way of life we must defend.

an old man once sat with a medal on his chest
his mouth full of stories, of honour and valour and violence and death.
he said he had metal in his leg for me
that he’d visited hell so that we could all be free.

free to live without want
free to learn
free to speak
free to be free
free to be who we were born to be.

where is this freedom now?
or was the cause a lie?
freedom to work
freedom to consume
freedom to fight
freedom to die.

but wave your flag you bastard
put hand on your heart and be proud
do as your told think what your told
don’t dishonour the saints and mistakes of the old.

don’t be a coward
fight and die like the rest
in mud in terror in chaos
to rot in hell with the best.

the battlelines are drawn
for your contribution in flesh they await
time to drain your heart of meaning
time to fill you up with hate.

its time to kill for our way of life
its time for the slaughter to begin
be sure it’ll be real as an arcade game
but be sure when they’re dead and buried
the power will remain the same.