Masters of war - Bob Dylan

Son nuevamente los tiempos de guerra y locura sin freno. Con la diferencia que hemos perdido sensibilidad y nada podría afectar. Nada que no toque en nuestra puerta directamente. Nada que no se escuche en directo.
Tampoco me importa mucho... mejor será que busque un plan para mantenerme alejado, fuera y sin chances de involucrarme, aunque eso sea poco probable.
Esta es para los que les gusta joder a los demás, es decir, para casi todos, que no miden sus egoísmosy que mas temprano que tarde, nos van a llevar al demonio, y nadie será culpable de ello.
Así que separémonos.

Come you masters of war
You that build all the guns
You that build the death planes
You that build the big bombs
You that hide behind walls
You that hide behind desks
I just want you to know
I can see through your masks

You that never done nothin'
But build to destroy
You play with my world
Like it's your little toy
You put a gun in my hand
And you hide from my eyes
And you turn and run farther
When the fast bullets fly

Like Judas of old
You lie and deceive
A world war can be won
You want me to believe
But I see through your eyes
And I see through your brain
Like I see through the water
That runs down my drain

You fasten the triggers
For the others to fire
Then you set back and watch
When the death count gets higher
You hide in your mansion
As young people's blood
Flows out of their bodies
And is buried in the mud

You've thrown the worst fear
That can ever be hurled
Fear to bring children
Into the world