A Beatiful Patriot Torn

The beautiful patriot
Lies on the battlefield
Under a threatening foreign sky...

Curious that as the bullets whistle past,
The one that found it's target
Does not seem to matter much in him
Or his comrades that have been downcast,
But he is so thirsty for a sip of water
To clear the dust from his throat,
Yet on the thick crimson liquid that spills so warmly,
The soldier will choke.
As it puddles around his head,
the gunfire fades away, and
Fallen face down, he drowns in the drink
that his country has provided for him.

So we can only ask this government
Which seemingly knows best,
Smiling with it's painted over face
Under a falsely warm pretense
Where is the life
in liberty and the pursuit of happiness?

There is only one solution to keep the flag
from being ripped and torn;
We have to find an alternative
To these deadly wars.

The beautiful patriot
Lies on his country's battlefield,
Beneath a cold, gray foreign sky.
But he cannot see the flag that he lost for,
And is blind to the purpose for which he dies.