Monuments

This is how it all starts: someone's got a stake

they owe it to their family, or there's big money to make

so you sign on for the good fight, and a bunch of them do, too

and you all have at each other the way y'all were trained to do

and if you die you go to heaven--there's a special place reserved

you get a flag and a stone, and then it's holy ground

for everyone who served

if you come back, you're a hero, and they give you a parade

if you're lucky, there's a monument to all the graves you made

well there's too many monuments, too many shapes

too many martyrs, too many mistakes

so let's not pray for our boys--easy prayers are all for naught

instead, pray for your enemies

the way that you were taught

desperation lingers in the shadow of defeat

it grows where there's no dignity and simmers in the heat

it flowers in the poverty, explodes when there's a spark

but I have faith that love can kill it, and take away the mark

I'm searching for an answer, but there's no any kind of clue

but there's never rhyme or reason for what desperate people do

why prayers for peace are ridiculed I'll never understand

if there's a God, well he must roll his eyes

at the way we love our fellow man