SENT

This is a song of lamentation for the meaningless pride-driven conflicts humans engage in with one another. Wars are only one kind of these useless conflicts. We are a species busying ourselves with a host of pointless conflicts. And it is our human pride that is the demon driving this evil behavior.

I find myself asking; Is our pride really worth that much? And the answer has always been yes. We are saying yes at a terrible clip just now, with our current investment in ideological, theological, and sociological polarization. And clearly we cannot solve our species problem with our damaged identity, and the subjective things we do to counter that damage (our pride). Only our maker can remake us.


SENT

You sent me off in filthy pride
to fields of blood where children died
and died and died on pastures dun
where no one mourns a passing son

You sent me off in arrogance
where murder is the circumstance
of men and boys in trenches deep
a flame with orders they must keep

And send you did my flowered dreams
to sacrifice my soul in screams
upon that summer day of dread
Beware the hubris in your head

Sent us down to Hades fine
with all our comrades in a line
You shucked our lives from off our pleas
you farmers of depravity

You stole the years of your young men
You fathers mothers were no friend
who thought to cheer those songs of war
and left yourselves an empty store of shame

Words, music, audio recording, & video
© John Brusseau, 7/29/2022