It's me, the fool, who will
not join that crowd.
It's me the fool who cringes
at the plight.
As though their crowd could
never be but right,
They march to war ignoring
all the lies.
It's me the fool who cringes
at the plight,
As they, the sane, ignore our
anguished cries.
They march to war ignoring
all the lies,
Forgetting they're commanded
not to kill,
As they, the sane, ignore our
anguished cries,
With little thought to all
the blood they spill.
Forgetting they're commanded
not to kill,
It's freedoms they have
fought for, but from what?
With little thought to all
the blood they spill,
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