Wild Voices

Of dead men, cold and full of rage so loud,

Do voices speak honest and wild and proud

That the living shall seek a call to war,

Never satisfied, always wanting more.

Such tidings fall on deaf ears, ignorant

Bereft of sought peace, now belligerent

In eternity they echo, wrathful

Such deeds celebrated, never fearful.

These brutal warriors of molded clay,

At their feet do dissidents now dead lay

Yet who can now deny such tempered steel

Rabid and raving do the masses kneel

The dead now crying, drowned out in fanfare

The price of peace, does it ever compare?