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ken theriot - dogs of war lyrics
forgive me now, o bleeding piece of earth!
i make this vow, thou n0blest man of birth__
these butchers will not win the day
but i must measure what i say
lest they may see and silence me
over thy corse i make this prophecy__
without remorse, what fury there shall be!
the empty womb, the mourning weeds
all pity choked with deadly deeds
revenge will tell, come hot from h_ll!
[chorus] woe to the hand that shed this blood!
woe to the land caught in the flood!
the tide of times will wash away their choice;
a curse shall light the limbs of men
and strife shall smite beyond their ken
when spirits calling with a monarch’s voice
cry, “havoc!” and let slip the dogs of war
gentles and friends, i pray lend me your ears;
as grief descends, let there be time for tears;
i come to bury, not to praise
evil lives on beyond our days
and all good word is oft interred
good men have slept, and better men have died;
the king has wept when that the poor have cried
what cause withholds you then to care?
my heart is in the coffin there
so bear with me ‘til it goes free
[chorus] woe to the hand that shed this blood!
woe to the land caught in the flood!
the tide of times will wash away their choice;
a curse shall light the limbs of men
and strife shall smite beyond their ken
when spirits calling with a monarch’s voice
cry, “havoc!” and let slip the dogs of war
‘twould be unkind if i sought to inspire
your heart and mind to mutiny and ire;
i should do men of honor wrong
and so i choose to go along
to wrong the dead, on my own head
it is not meet that you should ever learn
the love complete that worthies would not spurn;
you are not wood, you are not stone
but being men, could you have known
just what you had, and not run mad?
[chorus] woe to the hand that shed this blood!
woe to the land caught in the flood!
the tide of times will wash away their choice;
a curse shall light the limbs of men
and strife shall smite beyond their ken
when spirits calling with a monarch’s voice
cry, “havoc!” and let slip the dogs of war
i come not, friends, to steal away your hearts
and all my ends are far beyond my arts
they gave me public leave to speak
for in this matter i am weak
and they are strong, but they are wrong
i have no wit, nor words, nor worth, but woe;
and i admit no more than what you know
but had i now the power of speech
to stir men’s blood, to rouse and teach
then let there be a mutiny!
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