Itching to fire them loaded guns
Blast vague foes to smithereens
So eager for the blood of everyone
Exploding to bits like never been seen!
Charge them with imagined genocide
Who cares for the truth, so what is it?
Power's a great high, a fantastic ride!
Lives are collateral they can forfeit
Search for reasons to justify the kill
Counting the dead is such a bore,
It's just their business, protest if you will
All indispensable, none keeping score!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem