What can we do to stop the foe?

The foe is us, this we should know.

‘Tis us who hear our Masters drum;

like good vassals we always come.

“To war, to war” the urgent cry;

line up young folk, line up to die.

We’re just drones into the slaughter;

each mothers son and fathers daughter.

Self-righteously we kill for peace;

peace cannot be lest war we cease.

The war drum beats now every day

as we march to our future’s way.