Music in the Tank

There is music in the air,

hovering, omnipresent.

Music makes me free of care.

Music makes life much more pleasant.

There is music everywhere,

hovering, sung by angels.

Choirs from above don’t blare.

Heaven sends us canticle, carols.

But on earth, men can do more.

Music serves them to battle.

Mainly when they fight ashore.

Pipers, drummers, what a rattle!

There is music in the tank,

stimulating the soldier.

Music helps him to outflank

any doubt and any danger.

All the power is in his ears.

Music that he also hears

each time when he is at home.

Heart beats like a metronome.

Music in the tank makes fun.

It prevents getting homesick,

let forget the desert sun.

He is used to working with music.

All the power is in his pipe.

Human being archetype.

He plays war with zeal and fun

as the kids play “Run, Sheep, Run”.

Music helps him to campaign.

Drum beats, bullets, dumdums.

Music shreds him mind and brain.

Sound waves hammering his eardrums.

All the power has to adjust.

The big tank shreds rocks to dust.

There is nothing to unlearn

and to dust he shall return.

There is death in the air,

hovering and waiting.