WE DON'T KNOW WHO'S KEEPING SCORE

We don't know what goes on behind closed doors. We don't know who's faking facts and who's keeping scores. We don't know who lives, who dies. who's wrong or right, who's worldly wise. We don't know who will lift this deadly shroud, if the final gasp will be a mushroom cloud.

We do know millions don't care. They're headed for Allah knows where and He won't tell. Probably to hell or someplace worse where killers go who slay just to blast the innocent away. It's a rotten way to fight a war. They've forgotten what life is for.

Some future day when all the killing's done and a gun is just an icon in a grim museum will tourists look with wonder and awe how the young who had so much to give chose not to live, instead to die and take with them passers by caught up in a war waged to satisfy the rage of men gone mad. How sad can history be?