A Psalm for the Sons of Ukraine (Half-a-million Dead) – The Quest Lords of the Apocalypse

A music video we made for our song,
A Psalm for the Sons of Ukraine (Half-a-million Dead)
A very raucous and merciless mockery and shaming of the establishment's ghoulish disregard for human life in waging this proxy war in Ukraine. Time to power stomp the war machine.
Lyrics:

O Lord, here in America, the rulers have no shame.
They are waging proxy war with Russia through Ukraine.
And for a fraction of the cost of all of our defense,
They say that we have bought ourselves a pile of dead Russians.
But through their hubris, they have wrought disaster on Ukraine,
And half-a-million young men, so far, sent down to their graves.

Half-a-million dead! Ukrainians, my friends,
Just a fraction of the cost of America's defense.
Half-a-million dead! So worth it! You see!
Thus we can cheaply degrade the Russian military.

So now the money that we spend to prolong our war,
Motivates Ukraine to slaughter all their men and more.
In spite of all the billions that we send, they cannot win.
And all we do with all our money is kill Ukrainians.

Half-a-million dead! Young men barely grown,
Ghoulish Senators, rejoice! Bereaved mothers, moan.
Half-a-million dead! Consigned to the flame.
Their bodies blown to smithereens, their efforts all in vain.

And now we hear they seek a way to tie the voter’s hands,
They will oblige America, to defend Ukraine’s lands.
But what the hell are we defending? Not democracy!
This Ukraine war’s a debacle, America, can’t ya see?

Half-a-million dead! Such negligible cost!
All the young Ukrainians are rotting in the frost.
Half-a-million dead! America, take heed.
Our government is run amok with villainy and greed.

So now, O Lord, what shall we do with rulers such as these?
Which lawlessly wage war and do whatever else they please.
And while they gloat over the few dead Russians that they bought.
Their souls’ destruction from such corruption is getting’ pretty hot!

Half-a-million dead! Conscripting more boys,
Throw them into action, give them shiny American toys.
Half-a-million dead! When you count the cost,
Don’t count it in dollars, you son of a bitch, you count it in lives that lost.