Fathers, brothers, and husbands,
All slain at the hands of the warrior.
His hands are stained with the blood of unknown enemies.
He fights for his country, for his people,
For his freedom, for his lord.
He knows for what he fights.
But does he know why he fights?
Does the warrior know why these men must die?
He kills at the word of his lord,
He kills without thought.
Only after does he question the reason.
Surely death is not the answer?
No, he must not question, he must kill again.
And so, in the name of the warrior's country,
In the name of his people,
In the name of his freedom,
In the name of his lord,
A thousand children are made fatherless and brotherless,
And a thousand wives made widows,
At the hands of a warrior who knows not why he fights.

I remember this one. I still love it.