I want to feel the rush again, bullets flying leaving a trail of sin.
I want to taste the blood on my lips, like the blood dripping from fingertips.
I want the reaper to accompany me, showing me things that are soon to be.
I want to hear the screams once more, the sounds of beauty in this war.
I want to see that pain shine bright, like the flash of napalm at night.
I want to sense death all around, as I step over bodies of the enemy on the ground.
I wish I didn't love this so, but I am a good soldier and this is all I know.
I wish I didn't need these things this way, but I'm a trained killer what more can I say?
I wish I didn't miss hell like this, but I am a reaper and my life is his.
I wish I could redeem myself, but my soul has been sold and placed on a shelf.
Now demons haunt my dream at night.
And in a sick way it somehow feels right.
And angels turn their backs to me.
But the stress is astounding, I'm truly free.
The screams of my brothers.
The moans of my foes.
Leaving childless mothers.
Constantly weeping their woes.
The stones of their tombs.
Resting on the ground.
In mother earth's wombs.
Where there is no sound.
Forever bearing the cross of a king.
With praises of hatred, that's all I can sing.
©jarnmarr
J