we the strong

ok, i abhor us
is that clear enough?

the high-pitched squeal of the apple tree
says, come!
be blessed of my fruit
rest in my shade
make love to my limbs
and bring a friend

but we rattle our sabres, pillage and destroy
wanting the best
wanting the all
and we piss a deed in crafting laws
carving initials, building fences
til at last, in a violent shake
the rot that fills the earth
is our very own in ugly conquer

we, tin soldiers us,
invent threats from hungry souls
and forgotten hearts
while we build our cities
with the bones of the weak
grinding them into battle hymns
that reverberate through history
teaching a stronger generation of warriors

we are a warring noisy people
greed is our bagpipe
the glint of steel our code of honour
and the backs of the unsuspecting vanquished
our very foundation

and this do i abhor
for i have learned it as well