Cry "Havoc!" And Let Slip The Dogs Of War

Listen mindless and you will fear

The heedless ride of Fall Severe,

"Enemy plans heard in my ear!

"Better fight or you're a queer!"

Missiles launch from churchly steeple

Eradicating their evil people!

Hate's conviction never feeble,

Cheering glee from shearing sheeple.

Children flee the terror sky

On this day their dreams will die,

"Havoc! Havoc!" the foreign king's cry

Finger licking deadly men's pie.

"I'm the killing king!" he brags,

"Put beating hearts in zippered bags!"

"The horse to hell never sags!"

"Carry me high on war's dog tags!"

"Victory!" squeals comforted mother

Her hands bloodied by another;

God's sinless run for hopeless cover -

They unclaimed by any brother.

"More exotic than a doctor's pill

"This killing for my god's will!

"Crushing justice is my thrill,

"Peace needs my guiding hand still."

Crucified prophets finally faint,

"Our lies their truth shall not taint!

"It's lovely dreams we do paint -

"We've voted ourselves a lovely saint!"

Placing hope on terror's peace

Blood oils the war machine's grease;

Laughing bandits the new police,

Freedom's hope artfully fleeced.

Romans dance on their future grave,

Hanging high thieves who forgave;

Who dare stop this worldwide rave?

Who dare keep their soul to save?

O, pardon me, thou bleeding piece of earth,

That I am meek and gentle with these butchers!
 

Thou art the ruins of the noblest man

That ever lived in the tide of times.
 

Woe to the hand that shed this costly blood!

Over thy wounds now do I prophesy,--
 

Which, like dumb mouths, do ope their ruby lips,

To beg the voice and utterance of my tongue-- 

A curse shall light upon the limbs of men;
 

Domestic fury and fierce civil strife

Shall cumber all the parts of Italy;
 

Blood and destruction shall be so in use

And dreadful objects so familiar

That mothers shall but smile when they behold

Their infants quarter'd with the hands of war;
 

All pity choked with custom of fell deeds:

And Caesar's spirit, ranging for revenge,

With Ate by his side come hot from hell,
 

Shall in these confines with a monarch's voice

Cry 'Havoc,' and let slip the dogs of war;
 

That this foul deed shall smell above the earth

With carrion men, groaning for burial