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Frayed

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Born in the fray,
blood puddles, people pray.
Trying to re-attach flesh,
Strings of the harp are being strung,
unraveling of lives begin,
the beating of their hearts match the dark drumming of war beats.
We go to kill them,
even if they are children.
The explosions in their minds,
the withering of hearts,
the erosion of free will.
All started by the rivers of blood.
Pull back the troops to the USA,
pull them,
out of the fray.





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