The Drums of War

The drums of war are beating. You are invited to the fight.
'We need the war for peace' you’re told, 'we need your swords to fly'!

The drums of war are beating; you are invited to be mad.
You are asked to welcome hatred; you are asked to armor up.

The drums of war are beating, and your heart is asked to choose.
You are told 'the war for peace is needed'; you are asked to stomp with boots.

The drums of war are beating; they are beating at your heart.
They ask you to take the children and to rip them into parts.

The drums are beating louder, and you cannot mute the call—
'Are you joining, soldier?' 'Are you coming to our war?'

The drums of war are beating, and they drown another beat:
the beat of human hearts—those hearts that beat for you to hear.

The drums of war are beating, and your heart is asked to choose:
the choice to hear another sound, the choice to not repeat.

'Where now, beloved brother, which way are we to go?'
The beat of hearts is barely there, and yet we hear their call.

The drums of war are beating, but we hear another sound—
We hear the sound of mothers’ hearts; we hear the hearts of sons.

The drums are beating louder, and now it is time to choose.
Where now, beloved brother? The children should not lose.

The drums are beating louder, but in the pause between each beat
you hear your own heart beating, and you choose not to repeat.