Luyện nghe bài hát War Supply

War. The ultimate. The of friend or foe.
Always declared by the high and out by the low.
Elevated to the of honourable feud.
Fought to or death. Either him or you.

fodder dressed up proud to fight or even die.

Carrying cross of Christ, the of David, Swastika or
of God, the hammer and the sickle or banner
splattered with blood. Camouflaged and drilled
you await all in confidence, at peace. Blown apart,
one could not your brains from your feet.

As your spirit slips away and Earth from your blood.
The is that the last thing you'll think is - "Oh my God!".

your...
War Supply. War Supply. War Supply.
Not until that mine has torn you in two you'll just fucking "why".

At the bottom of the in a burning deaths terrain.
You grab your head as if to yourself from goin' insane.
Tracers cut a burning tracks above your head.
Staring at your weapon, wishing that you'd dare.

Just one press on the trigger and it's all gone.

Ask yourself if your one is worth spending this way.
Tell me where's all glory you among countless young
men slain. Indoctrinated as you are by church, school,
and your command think more of how your death
will contribute and your land.

In you look all swell as you march off to war.
From now on your rubber body-bag will be your style forever more.

War Supply. War Supply. War Supply. War Supply.
War Supply. War Supply. War Supply. Not that
mine has torn you in two you'll just fucking "why".