Equip with guns of flaming breath,
Entrench in coffins made for death —
Our iron casket, mobile grave —
The brother kills with brother’s rage
Upon some distant bloody stage.

This war has shred the joy of man
As despots do what despots can,
And all is going to their plan.

With Mammon’s lust, the demons crave
A sacrifice where none can save;
They scorch the earth to living hell,
Equipped with guns of flaming breath,
Encased in coffins made for death.

This war has shred the joy of man
As despots do what despots can,
And all is going to their plan.

“Disburse their kind with hated shell!”
And screams the mother, yet we tell
Our children that the killer’s free,
Equipped with guns of flaming breath
And using coffins made for death.

This war has shred the joy of man
As despots do what despots can,
And all is going to their plan.

Watch the frightened children flee
From scattered shrapnel all around,
From piercing violence of the sound
Of anguish in its worst degree
As blood will flow from flesh and be
The irrigation of the ground
While more and more the shellings pound
The scar-worn earth, and we agree:

“The evils of this war must stop,
As it has shred the joy of man.”
But still the blood runs drop by drop
As despots do what despots can.
They have a corpse’s throne atop,
And all is going to their plan.

Our foolish people cannot see
The distant terror from this plea;
Reduced to ash, a smoking plume,
From gifted guns of flaming breath
And iron coffins made for death.

This war has shred the joy of man
As despots do what despots can,
And all is going to their plan.

Where foreign men spread foreign doom,
It’s all to fill in freedom’s tomb.