Monday, 14 March 2011

Price Of Life

The seed of war
Planted in this spirit of mine
Neither falters or wanes
Through experience or time

Educated by the fist
And words of contempt
I drive by aggression
And a cartridge well spent

Some call it murder
But it’s part of the game
Be it business or politics
Their luxury is your pain

I am but a tool
A sword for some master
They pay me my fee
To write your last chapter

All for the wealthy
Life as part of the sum
I hold my chin high
To the beat of a drum