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Such a proud corpse

With such grace

Far too inept to know shame

We’re locked in here together

Fingers into fists

Fists into our chin

Your hand on the handle

The blade in your neck

Catch the blood before its spent

Your blood and sweat amount to piss and spit

Grinding bone for a taste of it

A hand on your heart

A flag over your face

What a pretty hill to die on

Last gasp of hollow faith

A gun on your hip

No grasp on life

But with god on your side

This war you’re waging has you gagging on boot

Your flag has abandoned you

There won’t be freedom till there’s blood on our hands

Blood in our mouths

Blood in the sand

You will never fill the boots of the soles you lick

You’ve got the red, white, and blues but whose soil is this?

Happiness is assassination