I was in the field

I used by body as a shield 

I hit ground balls into the infield 

Only sometimes i hit it into the outfield

Out there is a battlefield

I hit dingers Into windshields

I finally feel heald

The birds sing 

I swing 

I play like a king 

I hit the bird's wing

Oh no, now it's drowning 

I think i pulled my hamstring

Its hot in spring

I got a offspring

He my everything 

I whip you my pitch 

If you hit it, it a glitch

You play like a grinch

I'll bury your career in a ditch

Our brothers in race,

Were all people,

But we choose to fight,

Why can't we have peace,

Why can't we speak the same tongue,

And sing the same songs,

Love everyone we meet

No matter where they came from.

What a nice world that would be.

(But) there is a sad truth in this world,

Will there never truly is peace,

There is hate, suffering, racial categorization,

But why?

Why no matter what we try,

There is never peace,

Everyone wants it,

But no one is willing to sacrifice for it,

Sacrifice a Religion, a lifestyle, power, even some rights.

Would you be willing to sacrifice,

For peace?

My stomach is roaring with an angry vengeance.

It’s a beast with fifteen heads,

I only wish I could contain the menace.

Men around me groan and howl, it’s horrendous. 

Our beasts toss their heads and shriek, it’s Hunger

We all stink with sin, no holy hygienists

I’m not getting any younger. 

 

Aye, aye, where are our downy beds?

We’re getting sick of playing tenace. 

How can we stand ourselves, we’re all blockheads!

I’ll tell you, I’m getting close to killing Dennis. 

And oh, I’m forgetting Jeness. 

Well, I’m not ashamed, I too am a monger. 

We smoke and smoke like mad train engines. 

I’m not getting any younger. 

 

Aye, aye, the ground is a canvas of reds

My sanity begins to weep in a rifle’s presence. 

Just like my boots, my happiness is in shreds. 

I think of young boys, are they really jealous

Do they know our pain is tremendous?

At night I drift into a sleepless slumber

I ask God: Is this my sentence?

I’m not getting any younger. 

 

Besides Hunger, with it’s beastly intentions,

Besides the worry of being the last number,

Besides my religious detention,

I’m not getting any younger.

 

 

And leaving my family behind

With the government and all their prattle

It's almost like they were blind

About the amount of death that you could hear

And the entire time you were thinking:

Why are we here

Death and killing and blood and gore

With bodies littering the battlefield floor

Yet the government keeps sending us in

While we battle without a grin

We fight with weapons, yet not with spears

While we get infected all in our skin

Why are we here

The trenches the trenches yes, they were bad

But now we are done, so I am glad

That the killing is over and we finally asked

Why were we here