If death is thought the ultimate

what price a part or two?

To be left as a mindless torpid trunk

the Elephant in the room.

 

And a limb’s not a limb – it’s a piece of shit

when blown into a muddy pit.

The scalpel only adds subtraction

in that theatre; sealing disconnection.

 

If death yields a hero – is life shame?

Return, with only self to blame?

Nobody trains a squaddy to die.

Is it all, a monstrous lie?

 

And a limb’s not a limb – it’s a piece of shit

when blown into a muddy pit.

The scalpel only adds subtraction

in that theatre; sealing disconnection.

 

If death decides who’s right, who’s wrong

why damage so much that doesn’t belong?

Set-piece ritual-slaughter by volunteers

would carry more honour, and fewer tears.

 

And a limb’s not a limb – it’s a piece of shit

when blown into a muddy pit.

The scalpel only adds subtraction

in that theatre; sealing disconnection.

 

If life’s so cheap to the leader-mind

and military pageantry so refined

let leaders do battle, as days of old.

We might choose more carefully; breaking this mould.

 

And a limb’s not a limb – it’s a piece of shit

when blown into a muddy pit.

The scalpel only adds subtraction

in that theatre; sealing disconnection.