This Old War

Send me down a winding path
So I can face my mind's own wrath.
I've battled many things before,
But nothing as grand as this old war.
It's hidden tricks I've come to know
For every battle is a show,
Though with each game the end is nearer,
And my mind's path is surely clearer.
I know it's wrong, sincerely twisted,
The worst thing that's ever existed,
But I look forward to these fights;
I don't want to see an end in sight.
And in the dusty corner of every thought
Is a reward to be found and sought.
Yet at the end of each uproar,
I've won the battle and lost the war.