The sands of war smell sterile in the sun
Until they’re heaped upon the heated dead
They catalyze the stench of what’s been done
While covering the images of dread
The sands of war flash like ignited gas
When winds of chaos sear their clouds of dust
Which burn the flesh of everything they pass
As if the will of god declares they must
One hundred thousand soldiers would be brave
To spend a year upon the sands of war
A fool would put them all into a grave
Before admitting what he sent them for
But heated sands of war can also cool
And no one has to die for any fool