The Theatre of War

The theatre of war

Welcome to hell created by men
By men with needs of destruction
All shall hail to the war symphony
From scrap whe make men
From men whe make machines
It's the perfect and only construction.

Money comes from progress
progress comes from abomination
Feel the propaganda of scrap
That controls the system.
Searching from scrap
muscles, amunition , power.

To create explodions of time and space
that makes the world tremble like never before
Today soldiers a mindless war machine
to rip and cut ,
fire it out
smash in to pieces.
In a bag of pain killers
finding the only escape.

Honor is inside his rocket launcher
The granades that shall blast human body parts
The blood on his boots that he likes to have.
A useless sign of humanity that whishes not to fight
Dies in pure flames , washing history
With bloody riwers of damnation.
Blasting his way throught
no matter with who he fights
Destruction is the ultimate mission.

Bombs shall fall on towns and innocent people
For the pleasure of the binders of pain.
Generals and their masters.
That wish to sit in their houses.
To be safe , free from any stain.
Everything shall be made by soldiers
For their family they are gone.
Ereased from the memory of all
Because war is now their only family
With build in arms they march
Build in by endless training

Come warrior!
Launch yourself on the battlefield
burst into flames with passion
strike them down
It will be done
with your mighty fist
or a machine gun.

"Fight and meaby you will get your life back
because whe are all gladiators in the Arena of War"