| War. The ultimate. | |
| The pinnacle of friend or foe. | |
| Always declared by the high and fought out by the low. | |
| Elevated to the state of honourable feud. | |
| Fought to capitulation or death. | |
| Either him or you. | |
| Cannon fodder dressed up proud to fight or even die. | |
| Carrying cross of | |
| Christ, the star of | |
| David, Swastika or word of | |
| God, the hammer and the sickle or banner splattered with your blood. | |
| Camouflaged and drilled you await all hell in confidence, at peace. | |
| Blown apart, one could not tell your brains from your feet. | |
| As your spirit slips away and | |
| Earth drinks from your blood. | |
| The irony is that the last thing you'll think is - "Oh my God!". | |
| When your... | |
| War Supply. | |
| War Supply. | |
| War Supply. | |
| Not until that mine has torn you in two you'll think just ****ing "why". | |
| At the bottom of the crater in a burning deaths terrain. | |
| You grab your head as if to keep yourself from goin' insane. | |
| Tracers cut a million burning tracks above your head. | |
| Staring at your support weapon, wishing that you'd dare. | |
| Just one delicate press on the trigger and it's all gone. | |
| Ask yourself if your one life is worth spending this way. | |
| Tell me where's all glory you seek among countless young men slain. | |
| Indoctrinated as you are by church, school, government and your command you'll think more of how your death will contribute and benefit your land. | |
| In uniform you look all swell as you march off to war. | |
| From now on your damn rubber body-bag will be your style forever more. | |
| War Supply. | |
| War Supply. | |
| War Supply. | |
| War Supply. | |
| War Supply. | |
| War Supply. | |
| War Supply. | |
| War Supply. | |
| War Supply. | |
| War Supply. | |
| War Supply. | |
| Not until that mine has torn you in two you'll think just ****ing "why". |
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