In Service to the Dream,
Francois Gaston d'Avignon
War is my companion
A good and faithful steed.
He takes me into battle
And there its him I feed
Upon the blood of lesser men
Who cannot ride to War
Upon the souls of Noble men
I have never met before.
Crying
War, War, Mother to us all.
War, War, Hear the Battle call.
And of those that answered
Many now are dead.
Their shields and bones upon the field
Their blood is running red
on the ground
And when the day is ended
His feeding done at last
The beating of his mighty hooves
Killing all the last
Of men who should have stayed at home
Of men who shouldn't die
Of men whose wives will weep alone
While children starve and die.
Feeding
War, War, Mother to us all.
War, War, Hear the Battle call.
And of those that answered
Many now are dead.
Their shields and bones upon the field
Their blood is running red
on the ground
Of those that fell this day
I envy one and all
For cursed I am to ride this horse
To fight and never fall
I rode it into Carthage
And then again to Rome
And every other city
And every other home
touched by
War, War, Mother to us all.
War, War, Damn that Battle call.
And of those that answer
Already they are dead.
Their shields and bones upon the field
Their blood will run red
Feeding War.