We born in the cradle of Cain, blood in the grain,Mama hugged us with a bomb strapped, sayin’ it's pain.Eros and Thanatos playin’ dice in the brain,While we pray for peace, we load clips and aim.We love the thrill, the chase, the kill, the march,But cry at the graves, hearts scorched and parched.Freud said it’s libido mixed with death-drive art,We get off on the rupture, romance the scars.History’s a loop, trauma’s on repeat,Flag-draped coffins sold with a sick beat.Daddy went to war to feel alive on his feet,Now junior playin’ soldier just to feel complete.We lovin’ war like it’s holdin’ us tight,Kissin’ apocalypse under nuclear light.Call it defense, but we fiendin’ the fight,Psyche got a fetish for wrong over right.Don’t wanna die, but we flirt with the fire,Humanity’s caught in a funeral choir.Can we love life more than we love the empire?Time to lay down arms—or be our own pyre.We got tanks in the mind, drones in the soul,Sittin’ in peace talks with a glock in the coat.Arms around each other, then we slit each other’s throat,'Til the last man left asks, “What’s the antidote?”It’s buried in the trauma of our granddad’s sins,In the silence of the vet with the thousand-yard grin.It’s the rush of control, the myth of the win,But every “victory” got a graveyard within.We need Freud in the cipher, Jung on the beat,To decode why we crash when we seek inner peace.We bomb for balance, lie to the weak,Then call it “order” while the cities leak.We lovin’ war like it’s holdin’ us tight,Kissin’ apocalypse under nuclear light.Call it defense, but we fiendin’ the fight,Psyche got a fetish for wrong over right.Don’t wanna die, but we flirt with the fire,Humanity’s caught in a funeral choir.Can we love life more than we love the empire?Time to lay down arms—or be our own pyre.Maybe it ain’t power we love.Maybe it’s just the ritual of rage,the rhythm of destruction,like a broken love song we never stop playin’.War’s the mirror we kiss’cause we scared of what peace might make us see.