begging the question

Authority loses pretense
When the dead rise to make claim
There's nowhere to run from them
To escape the vastness of obscurity
How many times have you riddled me this?
A thousand plus the last fallen soldier
Another victory for the wounded enemy of hate
He wouldn't call down angels for your sake
Clearing out right before the wake

I have spoken too soon
I now see red balloons
Floating freely overhead
Many will soon be dead

Preaching from a hill, there's nothing as wrong
As opening your chest to reveal a stone
Without hope I'm empty of passage
Clearly embedding sacred adage

It's a long way to where we lost our lives
The site where we left our cold bodies behind
Would you be so kind as to lead me back to those deserted and scorched fields
Vast golden meadows once carefully tilled

In closing, I would like to thank George Bush for all the memories I never wanted