Lined up by rank'n'file.
moved closer to death,
every and each mile.
Hands clenched tightly to my gun,
sooner or later,
I have to kill some one.
With every step that's taken,
deeper under the ominous cloud,
my soul is ackin.
The time has arrived,
and god turns a blind eye.
No one here will survive.
Tax dollars at work.
spent on men,
to bury others in the dirt.
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