These Hands Will Never Be Clean

You signed up for it
Didn't you bother to read the fine print?
No retrospective claims have an ounce of validity
Once you signed on, you gave certain rights away
A contract signed in ink
It is sometimes a pact of blood
Use your fuckin' head!
And the will to stand by your actions
First thing you need to accept
Is that once your hands have been soiled
Soiled by the blood of man
They'll never again be clean
So whether they were friend or foe
You were merely a conduit
And just because you signed on in ink
It's not to suggest this is anything less
Than a pact of blood
War is an odyssey
Devoid of mercy
An engagement of spirit, blood and will
Where no one is spared
It affects all whether they live or die
But what, what becomes of me?
And what of these hands, that will never be clean?
And the soldier that lay there in the trench
Wounded, but not quite mortally
The 'friendly fire' had ripped through his abdomen
And he panted as though he was giving birth to his own death
His comrade tried to stem the flow of blood
And all the while he thought to himself
These hands will never be clean