Proud mother come and see what your soldier sons are doing, see them search crying children who no longer can walk the streets to go from home to school. They kidnap little boys, to torture or imprison. Maybe they shatter their arms and send them on their way. Cry for your soldier boys when they come home to you, ironed uniforms, medals and ribbons but gone are their child like eyes replaced by the killers gaze. Your soldier sons chose government over his own mum. Proud father can you see your sons courage, as they fight civilians who throw stones and pick up the gun. They blow to pieces...
















