It’s firing on all cylinders 
This slow rush to the bottom
What about all the suffering
It’s all forgotten 
All the men pulling triggers
To blow up a bomb
What happens to the world
When we’re all gone
And it’s raining in my ears
And it’s not just astute
Fanciful feelings
While playing the brute
And we can sigh
And say that we mourn
But what is birthed
In the heat of the storm
When the tides are turned
And the way back is burned
What is left but ashes 
When the enemy clashes
With itself on the front
And the innocent bear the brunt
Of words unspoken 
Is peace just a token 
That we exchange
With the shaking of hands 
And the conquering
Of foreign lands 
To say that they’re discovered 
And civil and tame 
Do we know something
Just because we give it a name 
Or does the essence elude 
Us when we exude 
The kind of confidence 
That shatters windows 
We let down the glass 
But we can’t see in though