Mama's Babies

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Put your flag down,

and put those guns

on the ground.

Go on home now,

boy, we're gonna tear

them borders down.

The colors are fading,

and stained with young blood.

War dogs keep marching,

straight to hell one by one.

With all your children,

oh mama's babies,

for no good reason at all.

So, put your head down,

when the man comes to whore.

Make them politicians,

fight their own damn war.

Oh, and make religion,

carry their own damn cross,

to the crucifixion of the

time they have lost.

It's time to pay

for what we cost.

Not your children,

oh, not mama's babies,

for no good reason at all.

This poem was inspired from the Kan'Nal song of the same name, with a little poetic license of my own thrown in.... :)