Each quarrel that you fight to win
Conceals a fact of life:
That every man is your own kin
Beneath the bitter strife.
You bicker on about your views
And argue over rights.
Soon your neighbors hear the news
And come to watch the fights.
A few may stand beside you now
--Or join the other side.
Passions rise, then wham, bam, pow!
A friend of yours just died.
Of course, you're feeling quite distraught
With pangs of rage as well,
So, despite what you've been taught
Your hate begins to jell.
Then, in the ethers all about
A brew of kindred ire,
Fulminates with frightening clout
And spreads like wild fire.
Now your leaders may react
To polls that gauge mass will;
You are a party to the pact
That sanctions rights to kill.
So, when your heads of state proclaim
That war's a valid path,
We think you ought to change your aim
And wrestle with your wrath.
