a profession

reaching rock bottom for what we've done
has left us astray like the ashes from the bodies as they decay
the art of war was a blank page in a coloring book and we have painted our masterpiece
coloring it red and the outlines in black with distorted lines all around
reload shoot. reload shoot
one down another one comes
a traditional story for all wars
a history in the making becomes a dull future
in life we beg for all cries. a warning sign that we still feel all right
the bible says "do not overcome evil with evil but overcome evil with good"
i am the sheep that has lost its way
the pain inside keeps choking me at night
i wake up coughing
and the dead bodies i hallucinate wont leave me head over this battle ground of death
drinking
every man thats been through what ive been through cant get this out
understand that every man that was ever killed by my hands was just a job, a profession
where its legal to take another mans life
and now it rests all in my head
headaches drinking
nightmares of their faces haunt me and i am never cured
i will never be cured
so i ask myself and my friends every night before i go to bed
drinking
"do you think god will ever forgive us for what we've done?"