Some take the bloody bit
And run themselves to death
With frothy shanks, flying spit
And glassy, bulging eyes
While others refuse the bloody pit
And turn away the fiery breath
With flexed shoulders, pivoting heel
And wildly open sighs
Some whip themselves to the fray
As steeds of war like beasts they bray
To rip and tear the daylight from the day
Until no longer invites a way
To wheel and turn and steal away
As saints of peace the manly hand they stay
To heal the wounded damage of their play
Until they recover the golden way
To heal and feel the sunlit day
Some drop themselves on the killing floor
They never reach the farther shore
Steeped and strangled in blood and gore
They cannot learn to forswear war
To forswear war forevermore
While others climb up the opposite shore
They reach the place they've so longed for
Washed and cleansed of the bloody whore
They've learned to simply forswear war
To forswear war forevermore
Yes, some refuse the bloody pit
And turn away their fiery breath
With flexed shoulders, pivoting heel
And widely opened eyes
But others take the bloody bit
And run themselves to death
With frothy shanks, flying spit
And brassy, bulging cries
