as always.

there is a white sun low in the sky.
there is nothing but space for hundreds of miles.
there is nothing here so sure as the cold weight of a rifle.

despite your politics
despite your news reports
despite all preconceived notions
this is war
in a far away land .

there is nothing so sure as death. someone is going to die.

as always this ground will be fed with blood.

crimson.

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Copyright 2005 -- Scott Kirkpatrick -- All Rights Reserved
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