Fodder

Yes,we bring them back.
The living and the dead.
The wars we wage are needy,
And the fodder must be fed.

Yes, we slowly beat the drum.
As we put them in the ground.
And speak of honor and of duty,
And all that other stuff.

The living we forget,
As quickly as we can.
And the horror that we’ve dealt them,
They should face it like a man.

But they keep on coming,
Fresh blood that can be bled.
For the wars we wage are needy,
And the fodder must be fed.

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