From where does this good name arise
that we are content to sacrifice and value
war above that we love far more?

Is it tales of glory and yet bolder lies
wrapped in flags and mythic warrior lore
that lead our children off to war?

If war is the best we can devise
to give meaning to our lives and touch
our core, are we not then truly lost?

Would that we could recognize
that this false good name of futile war
comes with a fierce debilitating cost.

Does the wearisome brutality of war
bring us comfort, seem a cure?
In such a world can love endure?

Pity that we live with war, pity
that we send our children off to die
among the rats, among the flies.

For rippling flags and lowly lies
we hide the truth of what’s in store,
preserving the good name of war.