Boots on the ground soldiers deployed in towns, to stop the bombers coming around. Police with guns protecting kids and dads and mums. No need to run more boots can come patrolling in the mid-day sun.
Their uniform pristine and green, berets black, Red and green. Loaded guns rarely seen, urban warriors fit and lean. Preventing terror from those who are keen. Film scene comes to be, will it work? we will see. At least we can still be you and me.
Spectre of death fading breath, parents bereft nothing left where their children stood, just guns and boots in a neighbourhood, turn back time they wish they could stop the disease, that murders with ease here at home and overseas.
Stiff upper lip, though it stings like a whip, this disease spreading drip by drip. Solid lives can’t be destroyed by bombs or knives cos our bond is strong like man and wife. To stop us living free, you will have to take every life. Cos, we will fight to the end and will not bend, but will defend this way of life from low life and scum, we will never succumb, if there is a beat in our heart you will never tear us apart, we will fight you with all our lion heart.
Rhythm of the Ink 