A warriors hands are always red
with the color of blood
from those he makes dead
A battlefield his playground
the game he plays is death
The rules are simple
kill them all
The Art of War
at its best
Its all or nothing
last man standing
Only the strong survive
His concience has faded
his heart it is empty
This is the way
he must live his life
Its a never ending story
its a never ending battle
its a never ending road
that leads to nowhere
Men fight for glory
led to slaughter like cattle
Their deaths unexposed
and so no one cares
© 2006 LOKI
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Printed from www.DarkPoetry.com/dp/13965/88493 on Saturday July 05th, 2008 04:28 AM
Certain elements © 1996-2008 Matthew Steven (matts.org)
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