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 state of feud.
Fought to or death. Either him or you.

fodder dressed up proud to fight or even die.

Carrying 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 your feet.

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

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

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

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

Ask yourself if one life is worth spending this way.
me where's 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
contribute and benefit your land.

In uniform you look all as you march off to war.
From now on damn 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
mine has torn you in two think just fucking "why".