Thousands and thousands, Row by row, Leading the charge - A demented foe The general senses The enemies near And calls to his lot As he looks on with no fear He picks but a few Being vastly outnumbered With no predispositions Or records of plunder All privates to choose from, And that he did. Send some out to die While the rest allowed to live The battle rages on The general sings broken hymns Knowing the fate of his army From the moment he picked them Transparency in choice For struggles do not matter They would either live or die And if true choice, who would choose the latter?