Battlefields.

Tell me, does death pose a threat
When peace is a long drawn out war
Hanging in the hands of withering ghosts
And sleeping monarchs, who know all too clearly
That a lie can kill the same way a gun does.
And they speak a million truths hidden behind
The glorious mountains of lies
That divide the betrayed and unite the betrayer
All for a little bit of the peace
That we lost when we were busy
Making our culture.
Tell me again, does death pose a threat,
When peace is what we´re all dying for?