During an era of a golden age, the state called
Those born to farming families, labor hardened
The state had called on them as recruit soldiers
Children of a plow had attachments to their land
They were loyal and they'd no reason to mistrust
Offers from the state mixed serving and a reward
The wars they'd then fought, thinned the number
In that service, the backbone of Rome weakened
After battles, the cost was fewer farmer soldiers
There'd now be less of labor hardened strength
Fewer could serve and vote, to work the land
Many lost their farms, by virtue of being gone
Then elite bought the lands that birthed men
Who were well able to carry out labors of war
Farms failed, but not the fields they were rich
While the lands were then worked by slaves
The farm born soldiers if not killed, still lost
This is the case of America, in wars for oil
The wars to support the false democracies
Soldiers once gave everything, but at home
Their farms failed, auctioned off, by elites
Cynical use of honorable humans endures
As banners differ the false hope goes on
The states let these honorable men die
In service of elite wealth and resources
They'll someday experience the harvest
No one will still remain to then serve
For farmers a harvest was genuine
A cynical elite, wealthy and powerful
These are the true rulers of the state
A state who will call out with offers
Offer up those who serve on altars
With a harvest as manifest slaughter
