He settles upon the ground after a ferocious victory.
The dust collects upon his facewrap as the rest scrounge the many destroyed ships delicately placed around the gulch.
All Spike can see are the bodies littered about each pile of wreckage, of each ship they had laid waste too.
In total he counts ten or perhaps eleven scattered piles of wreckage.
Who ever counted correctly with dust caked upon their goggles?
Slowly he stands and joins the others scavenging, no reason to ponder it right?
But ever still the thought lingers after every fight, after every skirmish or engagement, after every 'conflict'.
They may try and glorify it as a way to serve your country and improve the economy.
But it's just a scapegoat for the wealthy to take over and reap the efforts of every grease monkey, deckhand, and captain they throw onto the battlefield.
From dehumanization to arms production,
For the benefit of the nation
Or it's destruction?
Power is power
The law of the land,
Those living for death
Will die by their own hand.
Life's no ordeal
If you come to terms.
Reject the system
Dictating the norms.
From dehumanization to arms production,
To hasten the nation
Towards it's destruction.
Power is power,
The law of the land,
Those living for death
Will die by their own hand.
Life's no ordeal
If you come to terms.
Reject the system
Dictating the norms.
From dehumanization to arms production,
To hasten the nation
Towards it's destruction.
Power is power,
The law of the land,
Those living for death
Will die by their own hand.
Life's no ordeal
If you come to terms.
Reject the system
Dictating the norms
From dehumanization to arms, production
To hasten this nation
Towards it's destruction
It's your choice,
Your choice,
Your choice,
Your choice:
Peace or annihilation?
The lines mill through his mind, if it's his choice then why does he still fight.
Perhaps he is forced?
It's because this is war and war never changes.
