Luyện nghe bài hát War Supply

War. The ultimate. The pinnacle of or foe.
Always by the high and fought out by the low.
to the state of honourable feud.
Fought to or death. Either him or you.

Cannon fodder dressed up proud to or even die.

Carrying cross of Christ, the star of David, or
of God, the hammer and the sickle or banner
splattered your blood. Camouflaged and drilled
you all hell in confidence, at peace. Blown apart,
one could not tell your brains your feet.

As spirit slips away and Earth drinks from your blood.
The irony is the last thing you'll think is - "Oh my God!".

your...
War Supply. War Supply. War Supply.
Not until that mine has torn you in two you'll think just "why".

At the bottom of the in a burning deaths terrain.
You grab your head as if to keep yourself from insane.
Tracers cut a million burning tracks your head.
Staring at your support weapon, wishing that dare.

Just one delicate press on the and it's all gone.

Ask yourself if your one life is worth spending way.
Tell me all glory you seek among countless young
men slain. as you are by church, school, government
and your command you'll think more of how your
will contribute and benefit land.

In uniform you look all swell as you off to war.
From now on your damn rubber body-bag will be your forever more.

War Supply. War Supply. War Supply. War Supply.
War Supply. War Supply. War Supply. Not that
mine has torn you in two you'll think just "why".