Circles

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The human cost of violence is often overlooked. This is what we do to eachother. Is this our nature, or is this just a hurdle to becoming better?

Forged in fire, born and bred Like a lion in their heads Open hand made fist by culture Circles of violence upon well-worn treads Prospering, only crows and vultures Pick clean hesitant bones and falter Glory and wine, tools of peacetime Golden shovel; dig your graves by the altar The thirsty rebel looks to the sky, Shades his eyes from sunlight, dry Vultures circling the once-green plain Are waiting for them all to die What's in a fight for the living to gain? Glory, honor, protection in vain? The bladesman's steel cleaves circles in heads Circles of death, vengeance, and pain Security by gunpoint paints the world red Order and pestilence drilled into our heads A propaganda spread by vultures Controlling the reaper, profit from the dead

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