War is War; nothing more.

Violent noise and beating rain,
Hot metal screams, torn flesh steams.
Blood, mud, fear, pain;

War is War; nothing more.

By war's swift touch a life lays broken,
pleading eyes leave nothing unspoken.
A clutching hand slowly loosens
and when Death shrieks its triumph,
a boy man answers.

War is War; nothing more.

Some returned, the "Lucky Ones",
to safety, friends, to make amends,
to dull the pain - to feel the same.
To give mother's the lie to light pride's flame.
"He died for us all, no fear - no pain."
Though its we saw the truth,
and its we know the shame.

War is War; nothing more.

A dream, a shadow in night's soft sounds
strips Morpheus' cloak and a cry resounds.
He leaps awake to a call half heard,
repelling fear with his muttered words.
"A dream - not real, I'm safe; I'm home."

War is War; nothing more.

Were the lessons learned?
The price was paid.
The marches marched
and the wreaths all laid.
You speak of honour and you speak of glory,
you speak of courage when you tell our story,
but when the count is in, and the costs are weighed;
Its never been worth the price we've paid.
Wheels within wheels; will you still doubt the sin,
when the web at last breaks and the debts are called in?

War is war; is war - is war. Nothing more.