on their course,
like a flock of sheep,
that herds together,
and tomorrow they will chant in jubilation,
and will taunt at his effigy,
and dance to their accomplishment,
a 'war' won,
a nation torn,
and they will blast their guns to the skies,
a rain of bullet drops,
the air shall smell of gunpowder,
and the ground littered,
spent cartridges and shells,
throughout the country,
and they shall fly their flags high,
and mock the fallen general,
and not in far a future,
idleness will come calling,
and she will have the best of them,
and the wolves shall shed the sheep skins,
and another row shall arise,
rifle to rifle,
they will turn against each other,
tribe against tribe,
clan versus clan,
a war of blood for blood,
peace shall never be,
and few shall see,
the mistake they made,
a little regret too late,
for the clock shall have ticked.
©skillz 2011
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