Spilling our colors of hate
Painting the sky with bullets and bombs and blood
Teaching new eyes to feel our blind hate
Walking on the backs of the long dead
As we march fresh feet off to walk
The old dogs of war
Falling to our knees
Some to die
Some to pray
Some to grieve  and cry
And cry and
Cry
Forever repeating the question why?
And its the blind leading
The blind leading
The blind
So tired of all the lies
They can't remember whose side they're praying for
No longer able to keep score
They take their players from the field
And the pawns off the board
And the one-eyed kings remove their crowns
All the queens children laying dead
On the checkered ground
Who was wrong
Who was right...
It no longer matters
As they've given up the fight
Drowned in sorrows
But no one cries
As all the one-eyed kings
Commit suicide