Luyện nghe bài hát War Supply

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

Cannon fodder dressed up proud to fight or die.

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

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

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

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

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

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

In uniform you look all swell as you 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".