Many a man has faced the sword

Many a man has died

A poet for a pikeman

A scholar for a soldier

The machine cares not

For whom the bell tolls

For all must give their all

For God and Country, they say

In growing wells of blood and oil

For democracy and honor, they crone

As the death count climbs

And ‘tis all for naught

When one wonders why he must go

To the lands of spice and sand

To give his life so his betters can save face