You smell of war; The bloody, musky smell of war
That stains the bedsheets at the dead of night; Oh red!
You take and take and take,
And call it all for the honour,
But for honour you do not fight.
You smell of war that lasts long enough to wilt every garden,
Leave everything barren.
Oh war that dies but still lives on.
Screaming nights, vulnerable sights.
Just war, just war, just war.
You climb into bed having fought battles that are not your own,
Reeking of misfortunes of others,
Kiss my lips, the lips that you tell yourself lies with,
"It's for us." But you and I both know.
We save ourselves.