Spirit of War

A tragedy too often played out.

Burn, burn, burn,

A fire in the night,

The tiger in the jungle stalking prey out of sight.

Stomp, stomp, stomp,

The soldier marching by,

A rifle in his hand and a cold look in his eyes.

Run, run, run,

The lone rebel in flight,

Defending his homeland, for his family he'll fight.

Up, up, up,

The soldier lifts his gun,

The rebel in his crosshairs has nowhere left to run.

Roar, roar, roar,

From the bushes he comes,

He shows no mercy, this proudest of the jungle's sons.

Fall, fall, fall,

In dust the soldier lies,

So far from his loved ones, alone he quietly dies.

Turn, turn, turn,

The rebel turns to look,

He gives thanks to his brother; he has not been forsook.

Tigers prowl, rebels hide, and our young ones die in vain.

Why do we continue; what can we possibly gain?