Cognitive Dissonance

Perhaps but a pitiful prayer may leak from my tongue,
For boys (NO, MEN!) slain so young,
My only hope is I dare stay true to thy resolve,
May no shameful hippy persuade I evolve.

I shalln’t, but stand wearily in thy place,
My era has arisen to wear a man’s face,
Perhaps shall my fortune lead me fall too,
My hole in the dirt may lie next to you.

In our slumber we’ll rest in peace so kind,
As to ignore the lies of our youth so blind,
And in our haughty sleep of glorious giving,
Be there no worry of slaughter for the lads of the living.