Less Talk of Oceans

Chitter, chatter away gasbag
More mephane for merciless mercenaries
Who’ve seen no more of war than
What appears on their nightly news
Their views askew as

They buy the agenda, whichever agenda
Is sold to them, the consumer, a consumable
An expendable asset in the war of error
Where an enemy becomes an ally when you add oil
Bold boys, big bags of blood from British barracks
Buy another inch of sand

Young men with hopes, dreams and cares
Families, such young families
Two bags for two gallons of the black
Blood money because oil runs thicker than water
Whilst the red runs and stains the soil
Strap a medal on it and call it honour

So, less talk of oceans
Crossed, paths found and plowing a furrow
When you’re just digging graves
In which we bury common sense and
Two twenty year old lads from Scarborough
Who saw a flash ad and a paycheck to show their girls

There are no trenches here
We’re on new battlefields now
This is a new kind of war
Their war against us
Whoever we are
Whatever our skin
Culture, creed or god
When their god is viscous fluid

So fight the good fight my brave boy
Infidel, imperial with a bulls eye on your back
And a price-tag round your neck

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