The gods have flooded the battlefield and made it one huge lake,
The armies are afloat with cries of distress in their wake,
The living save the dying, not seeing the color they wear,
Where once was smoke and fire, now peace hangs in the air,
Yet the generals stand patiently, waiting for low tide,
Licking their lips and counting their troops and thanking for their hide,
So they can resurrect the bloated ghosts and play on at their game,
Are the sparks in the water still alive? Will God be put to shame?
The armies are afloat with cries of distress in their wake,
The living save the dying, not seeing the color they wear,
Where once was smoke and fire, now peace hangs in the air,
Yet the generals stand patiently, waiting for low tide,
Licking their lips and counting their troops and thanking for their hide,
So they can resurrect the bloated ghosts and play on at their game,
Are the sparks in the water still alive? Will God be put to shame?
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