After the bloodiest battle, bodies litter the field
All the while, scavengers try to quickly eat the dead
Competing with them are a few humans, survivors
Trying to save wounded men and count the fallen
Not pests, scavengers perform a service to men
Prior to the bodies of the fallen being honored
They'd been killing, ending each others lives
Scavengers are eating, continuing a natural cycle
They are surely not desecrating the new dead
If the dead deserve honor, glory, in those battles
If killing means honor, the scavengers don't matter
The dead consigned to fate or the gods of battle
Do not become worthy by dying nor brave
Recognition of all honor, morality or love
Made those lives lived, that are now dead exalted
Dead left behind, those broken lives, toxic futures
And battles are often fought without good reason
So praise the scavengers, they clean our fields
As the dead bodies of men, may turn sacred shadows
