It throws it's punches
And kisses it's wounds
It finds it's victims
And tramps with war
It seems the spots
Where we can't stand
We shoot it's bullets
Right into it's hands
We ask it's questions
We know it's there
We yell at it
Scream at it
Yet we still walk back
This time with armor
But rolls through
And takes what it gives
Not even with a second of remorse
Then it comes back
To give back the oblivion
