The blue-eyed

I wish my profession so tense

To disappear from the world;

Don’t want any honour, pretence

It’s not worth my blood.

Let the countries fight,

For right or for wrong

I don’t want to miss the flight

My anger’s not so strong.

Why should I kill someone

I don’t even know?

I have my family, my loved ones

My children want to grow.

We’re fighting on and on

Like morons in this world,

Wars for years reborn

And Peace is just a word!

When fighting sordid wars

Soldiers bleed and die

Leaders call us stars

That had fallen from the sky!

We don’t want these honours

To die dull and distinct

Wish like hunters

Our profession go extinct.