Mahler- Quartet For Strings In a Minor

I see a German wilderness, littered with soldiers and the broken bones of a nation at the grips of war, and there are flowers everywhere... in the soil, in the faces and mouths of dead children, and lifeless bodies flung over the earth in a quilt of death, and of course I don't understand, and could never feel being there, but the knowledge is enough, to take another photograph, of orchestrated madness, the forward stepping march of eagle minded Nazi troops, baraging into the brain with every screaming note, and moaning key, to provide meaning, to what it feels like to fight a war you want, but do not need, and to kill a man, to feul a dream.