The death you choose defines you, but so does life. Imagine if you can storming up the beaches, Interlocking firing style, germanically impeaches Upon fresh flesh, embedded, leaded, shredded Until nought remains that’s not remains Of youth, uncouth now shamed and sullied, Blasted seaside war vacation, Boys with guns defend their nation? It seems so pointless. What better way to prove a point, And get most noses out of joint, Than to strap some Semtex to your back, Then find a crowd and for the craic, Explode, upon the unsuspecting Knowing you’ll be resurrecting, With virgins ripe and for the taking, What joy, this heaven’s of your own making. It seems so pointless. Glory, valour, honour, pride, Alas the poor old bastard died, Promises of things to come? He’ll find no virgins not a one. Do you believe “thy kingdom come?” The moment that you do opt out, It’s sad, but you’ll be forgot about, Life’s to live, you get but one, Enjoy it. That’s all……… Sorry, there’s neither rhyme nor reason....