It is said to be beyond comprehension;
Such notions shield us from the truth.
What twisted morals let us fight this war
That thousands may die by waking day
To linger in bloody stalemate
While endgame stares us in the face?
Met with horror in the eyes,
That toil which takes us
Days, weeks, years;
Throwing us to the ground
Crippled, lagging behind
Could be accomplished in mere seconds,
A single hefty price
With the capacity of death
To birth peace,
An end
That our great race might progress;
For our sake
I will build the bomb.


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Preferido o celebrado por...

Cory Garcia Silverfish

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