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Dispossessed / 21 June 2013

Keep your young ones close and tight,
or they'll be sent away to fight.
Our boys and girls sent off to war,
no answer when we ask "what for?"

Then when they're spent, they send them home,
without their limbs, cut to the bone.
And some, their minds like shattered glass,
run fractured images of horrors past.

Once used, abused, now mad as hatter,
our boys and girls no longer matter.
They join the ranks of those they say,
are scrounging all the funds we pay.

No legs to walk, no minds to work,
this cannon fodder's seen to shirk.
Reduced to begging, facing arrest,
they join the ranks of dispossessed.