Luyện nghe bài hát War Supply

War. The ultimate. The pinnacle of or foe.
Always declared by the high and out by the low.
Elevated to the state of feud.
to capitulation or death. Either him or you.

Cannon fodder dressed up proud to or even die.

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

As your spirit 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 think just fucking "why".

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

Just one delicate press on the trigger and all gone.

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

In uniform you all swell as you march off to war.
From now on your rubber body-bag will be your style 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".