I don¡¯t wanna fight anyway
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I don¡¯t wanna take the things you own
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I don¡¯t wanna put myself at risk
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So someone else can take their throne
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I would put them all in a room
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Give em all the guns and clips they need
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I would put a seed in their minds
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That foreigners are based on greed
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Soldier machismo and his morals
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Who am I to know what they¡¯ve saved me from
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And what is there to say that if they all lay down
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My home would be gone
|
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I wanna put glue down your gun
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Imagine pointing that thing at your son
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When he dies you¡¯ll tell us we¡¯ve won
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And there¡¯ll be no invasion
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Broken shells and twisted metal
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Flaming egos, wilting petals
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Look outside your eyes are sore
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Now tell me who won the war
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Soldier Machismo
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| Fiction Plane |
