When will we end the battle?
I can't listen to this song without becoming quite emotional. Certain parts really get to me. The three strongest are:"Or on ice floes where conscience is tossed"
Have you ever watched a seal hunt? Watched the blood splatter across the white ice? Watched the not-dead seal hooked in its head and dragged across the floe leaving a red trail behind it? Seen so many of them piled up in the boat that blood runs out of it and into the water? Imagine yourself dying that way. I dare you to truly and deeply consider it."You mean no one is dying and mothers don't weep, or it's not in the papers at least."
Animal children are killed every day for fancy food, for trophies, for show-off clothes, and for nothing more than the pleasure of killing. Do think they are not missed and mourned by their mothers? Any biologist or wildlife researcher can tell you that there is little difference in the mother/child connection of animals and that of humans. In fact, animals treat their children better than some humans."And most men are ruthless, but some will still weep when the gifts we were given are gone."
I will weep. I weep now. What will we do when we have killed everything? Turn on ourselves? We already have.
This is not a video to be watched and listened to. It is a video to be felt in your core. If it makes you cry or feel sad, consider yourself blessed. You are still human and can measure the cost.
And you say that the battle is over Finally that war is all done Go tell it to those With the wind in their nose Who run from the sound of the gun And write it on the sides Of the great whaling ships Or on ice floes where conscience is tossed With the wild in their eyes It is they who must die And we who must measure the lossAnd you say that the battle is overAnd finally the world is at peaceYou mean no one is dyingAnd mothers don't weepOr it's not in the papers at leastThere are those who would dealIn the darkness of lifeThere are those who would tear down the sunAnd most men are ruthlessBut some will still weepWhen the gifts we were given are goneNow the blame cannot restOn the heads of a fewIt's become such a part of the raceIt's eternally tragicThat which is magicBe killed at the end of the glorious chaseFrom young seals to great whalesFrom waters to woodThey will fall just like weeds in the windWith perfume and fur coatsAnd trophies on wallsWhat a hell of a race to call menAnd you say that the battle is overFinally that war is all doneGo tell it to thoseWith the wind in their noseWho run from the sound of the gunAnd write it on the sidesOf the great whaling shipsOr on ice floes where conscience is tossedWith the wind in their eyesIt is they who must dieWe who must measure the lossWith the wild in their eyesIt is they who must dieAnd we who will measure the costWords and music by David MallettAs sung by John Denver
Have you ever watched a seal hunt? Watched the blood splatter across the white ice? Watched the not-dead seal hooked in its head and dragged across the floe leaving a red trail behind it? Seen so many of them piled up in the boat that blood runs out of it and into the water? Imagine yourself dying that way. I dare you to truly and deeply consider it."You mean no one is dying and mothers don't weep, or it's not in the papers at least."
Animal children are killed every day for fancy food, for trophies, for show-off clothes, and for nothing more than the pleasure of killing. Do think they are not missed and mourned by their mothers? Any biologist or wildlife researcher can tell you that there is little difference in the mother/child connection of animals and that of humans. In fact, animals treat their children better than some humans."And most men are ruthless, but some will still weep when the gifts we were given are gone."
I will weep. I weep now. What will we do when we have killed everything? Turn on ourselves? We already have.
This is not a video to be watched and listened to. It is a video to be felt in your core. If it makes you cry or feel sad, consider yourself blessed. You are still human and can measure the cost.
And you say that the battle is over Finally that war is all done Go tell it to those With the wind in their nose Who run from the sound of the gun And write it on the sides Of the great whaling ships Or on ice floes where conscience is tossed With the wild in their eyes It is they who must die And we who must measure the lossAnd you say that the battle is overAnd finally the world is at peaceYou mean no one is dyingAnd mothers don't weepOr it's not in the papers at leastThere are those who would dealIn the darkness of lifeThere are those who would tear down the sunAnd most men are ruthlessBut some will still weepWhen the gifts we were given are goneNow the blame cannot restOn the heads of a fewIt's become such a part of the raceIt's eternally tragicThat which is magicBe killed at the end of the glorious chaseFrom young seals to great whalesFrom waters to woodThey will fall just like weeds in the windWith perfume and fur coatsAnd trophies on wallsWhat a hell of a race to call menAnd you say that the battle is overFinally that war is all doneGo tell it to thoseWith the wind in their noseWho run from the sound of the gunAnd write it on the sidesOf the great whaling shipsOr on ice floes where conscience is tossedWith the wind in their eyesIt is they who must dieWe who must measure the lossWith the wild in their eyesIt is they who must dieAnd we who will measure the costWords and music by David MallettAs sung by John Denver
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