We are the playroom toys
of gods that will not fight
we are set up by boys
of transcendental might.

Our purpose is to serve
to strike the enemy
give them what they deserve
so blind they cannot see.         

The other figures stand
for other little men
a homicidal band
who ask not why but when.

We must not back away
we must defend our god,
so we stand fast and pray
a brave and faithful squad.

They line us up in rows,
they form us into squares,
then knock us down with blows
cause carnage without cares.

When we flinch at the bombs
they whisper in our ears,
“You are my special ones
and victory is near.”