We are the stuff that screams are made of.

What makes a man hate his own kind so much?
What gives him a spine of steel and a heart of ice?
Place your hand in the soil you will touch the
substance of a million murdered souls.
This world is a battle field, a place of carnage.
Somewhere in the world men are killing men.
I do not see peace waiting ahead of us.

Oh to born with a kind soul,
That can see beauty everywhere,
That flies with the dove upon the wind.
Makes double the sadness to enter  this cage of fear.

Come drink with me now, for tomorrow we will kill each other.
Take the last of the sunlight to your heart in a song,
For the darkness will not be denied for very long.