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 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 star of David, or
word of God, the hammer and the sickle or
splattered with your blood. Camouflaged and
you await all hell in confidence, at peace. apart,
one not tell your brains from your feet.

As your spirit slips away and Earth drinks your blood.
The irony is that the last you'll 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 of the crater in a burning deaths terrain.
You grab your as if to keep 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.
Tell me where's all glory you among countless young
men slain. Indoctrinated as you are by church, school,
and your you'll think more of how your death
will contribute and benefit land.

In uniform you look all as you march off to war.
now on your 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 until
mine has torn you in two you'll think just "why".