Trapped on the battlefield, no one coming to our rescue
We're hidden in vehicles of war and they might explode
No saving us by anyone, the others don't take prisoners
We signed up thinking our cause is just, which isn't true
It is the old men with money, playing checkers with life
Not their lives mind you but the dead lay gray and blue
No one is going home, if they even could, we're broken
We've minds that see ghosts, living for a world untrue
This isn't real, we're all prisoners of the rich and fear
We choose our truth, with dreams best be unspoken
But we have nothing, with only death and tears
In the end we die, what more is there to find
No peace in our heart, no hopes in our mind
Art by all time great Gustave Dore... 1871 Enigma
