A Call to Revolution

All over the world the children learn to hate
By traditional means unspoken and still
As part of the rest of the rust of their fate
Then some seem surprised when they grow up to kill

The children are only following orders
Like their parents did and their grandchildren will
Each generation gives blood for the borders
Since that is how they have been posted and drawn
In the dirt with the blood of the human race

Until the madmen in their maprooms have gone
To wherever the madmen of maprooms go
Children will be trained to be ground in the mill
To keep the blood fresh so the borders will show

That blood in that dirt once wore a human face
But the brain behind that face would never know
The answer or even what question to ask
Their blood was required to draw lines in the sand
Unspoken and still they were bred for the task

So they never had a chance to understand
The machinations of the maproom madmen
Only that the time had come to bleed once more
Fellow humans are you not weary of war?

It will end when we end it by saying when
Too much is enough and by asking what for
And why they need our blood to mark the border
Keep our blood in and let our souls out to soar
Past maproom madmen to a higher order

No license to kill no license to steal
No license to grind our children away
The madmen in the maproom are not real
But ghosts to scatter by the light of day

In our evolution we found revolution
If once did not suffice then we must do it twice

+Steven Curtis Lance



Copyright MMVIII