Broken glasses and shattered frames litter the room.
Walls that were once brown now shine bright red.
Red with the blood of the innocent and unsuspecting.
Beneath the red, lies a mosaic of bullets.

In the corner lie the once cherished and beloved toys of a child,
No longer means of joy and happiness, now a source of despair.
What was once just a remote control car, has turned into a weapon
A weapon that can wipe out a communities sense of security
As fast as it can wipe out the community itself

Through the dust and smoke, sitting upon the hill a single tank
The Grim Reaper’s favorite toy, it only brings death
There is no glorious death to come from facing this beast
Those who fall to its might, die the death of a fool

Weapons at the ready, taking careful aim,
with steady hands and calm nerves.
Embrace the trigger and squeeze it tight
Pray for your sins, and take no joy
For you have taken the life of your brother

Let the cries of sorrow sing you to sleep
The songs of the damned will fill your ears
No place can spare you from their anguish and pain
You are their salvation from this misery