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.
Fought to capitulation or death. him or you.

Cannon fodder dressed up to fight or even die.

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

As your spirit slips away and Earth drinks from 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 yourself from insane.
Tracers cut a million burning above your head.
Staring at your support weapon, that you'd dare.

Just one delicate press on the trigger and all gone.

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

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

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