In Flanders mighty killing fields
Where young found no protective shields,
Weapons with rapacious greed
Sought out young lives on which to feed.
From year to year, through sun and rain,
The young were killed or cried in pain.
Though killing, mankind should deplore,
His trigger finger's poised on war.
Man’s problem solving’s still the same,
And does it not seem such a shame
That when it comes to push and shove
There seems no residency for love?
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