Luyện nghe bài hát War Supply

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

fodder dressed up proud to fight or even die.

Carrying cross of Christ, the of David, Swastika or
word of God, the hammer and the or banner
splattered with blood. Camouflaged and drilled
you all hell in confidence, at peace. Blown apart,
one could not tell your brains from feet.

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

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

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

Just one delicate press on the and it's all gone.

Ask yourself if your one is worth spending this way.
Tell me all glory you seek among countless young
men slain. as you are by church, school, government
and your command you'll more of how your death
will contribute and your land.

In uniform you look all swell as you off to war.
From now on your damn rubber body-bag will be your forever more.

War Supply. War Supply. War Supply. War Supply.
War Supply. War Supply. War Supply. Not that
has torn you in two you'll think just fucking "why".