by Nick Gisburne
I come to claim a sacrifice: the good
To show them what your selfishness forgot
I know that you would stop me if you could
But I am in control, and you are not
How simple to exterminate them all
The virtuous, the pure and perfect few
How fitting for them, dying, to recall
The reason they submit to slaughter: you
I recognise the bitter tears you shed
And nobody could understand you more
But when you see them bleeding, dying, dead
Remember, no one really wins a war
I bring the hate, the violence you fear
And only peace can make me disappear
