Tender is the heart of the sword maker
Able are the hands that melt
Swift is the swing and sweet is the sound of defeat
Tranquil is the time of the bomber
Flying, flying, stay on target
Pity is what he feels
without knowing how to kill
Flip up button, 1, 2, 3
There's no more city
No one to see
High is the mighty commander
with his reports and analysis
Ordering death without candor
Weak are the ones in front and below
It's gonna put on one hell of a show
Tidy and safe are the ... read more