Sitting graciously at his throne
With blood seeping from his lip
The cold stare of the God of War
Tells us he is hungry yet.
 
Is there any way to quench his thirst?
And satisfy his need
Or more and more of blood he needs
To satisfy his greed
 
Our soldiers gone to other shores
Never to return
And fill the alter of the God
With more burnt offerings again
 
This alter once graced our shore
Piled high with rubble
Of thousands of bodies
Yet his cry is still for more
 
The scorching of our gardens
The stench of rotting flesh
Will bless the alter of the God of War
If we don't do our best
 
We'll tear down all his alters
And rid the world of hate
Escort him to the lands end
And push Him out the gate
 
We'll build another God
Whose alters overflow
With loving tender kindness
And kindness to us all bestow

Wayne Anthony