In the Bloody Brine of Sacrifice
The ethnic minorities, are being mobilized,
taken at gun point in the street,
Bound into servitude, by Putin’s empty
promises, his lies and devilish deceit.
Poor young lads, who will never live to
understand, the point of Putin’s war,
The reasons why their lives mean nothing, or
what they’re really fighting for.
Pressganged into Putin’s rag tag army, of poor
beggars, and arrant thieves,
Deemed worthless pawns, to be shattered and
blown, like autumns leaves.
Cast into the frontlines, where there’ll be no
returns, from this bloody war,
To pay the ultimate price, of Putin’s errant
dreams, within his wicked slaw.
The generals have been instructed, there will
be no retreat, or turning back,
To hold on to the last man, no matter what
happens, to endure any attack.
The cannon fodder doesn’t stand a chance,
there’s nowhere for them to go,
Their days are numbered, we have been told,
“They haven’t got a shitshow.”
The new recruits are untrained, and they don’t
know how to handle a gun,
Their chances are grim, the odds are slim, and
they are sure to be overrun.
The tangled mess, of bodies torn apart, and
broken tanks, is a grisly brew.
Its: Situation Normal, All Fouled Up; Or other
words to that effect, SNAFU,
The boys are bound to return in body bags, or badly
wounded, missing parts,
To join the throngs back home, united in
desolation, with badly broken hearts.
As a terrorist state, which will exist for
ages, within the depression of disdain,
And Ukraine will wear the hero’s heart, Glory
to the Heroes! Glory to Ukraine!
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