Men counted as they fall,
Fathers, Brothers you've sent them all,
but pity never clears blood stained lands
nor washes the guilt from your generals hands,
Merciful in victory, deadly in defeat,
for what crime deserves such conceit?
You'll feel defeat long before victory,
for months your soldiers have known only misery,
Many to know death before knowing life,
For what crime deserves such strife?
