Play War my Boy

Does my little boy like to play war?

Let me tell my boy what I’ve got in store:

Weapons I have more than plenty, boy - you can pick and choose

Surplus ammunition; and it’s all got to be used.

Does my brave boy want to fight a war?

Does my pride and joy need to know what for?

Don’t you worry about the reason, boy, or about the pretext

Just let me name the country and who to fight next.

It’s a bit of fun, boy; a computer game

So what if you destroy, you butcher and you maim

You don’t see the ruins, tread on corpses; you don’t smell decay

You just blow targets on the screen and it’s okay

Spare no humanoid, plenty more to zap

Drop the bombs my boy, delete them from the map

Give them sky-high infernos, give them some apocalypse

Make them flee the flattened cities – while I watch the clips

Boy you’ve got power; you’re going to rule the skies

So disregard them hags telling propaganda lies

Like, it wont’ be so amusing when they zip you in a bag

And fly your pieces back from Troy wrapped up in a flag

***

Now this cheeky boy says he’s heard it all before

That this is an attack of the rich against the poor

And should he end up in a slaughterhouse hanging on the hook

Should he die to make improvements to my accounts book?

Someone told my boy we need to have this war

There is a secret ploy to have yet more and more

He says our mission is no other than to profit and to loot

We’re morally unfit to give dictators the boot

So, my bastard boy says he won’t fight my war

He owns enough, my boy says, he has no greed for more

He says you can’t drink petrol, the taste is foul, the smell can make you cough

I called him a coward and he told me to fuck off.

text, image M. Galandomos