I still don't know what's actually going on here. I just really liked the word 'strife' at the time.
Husband fights, alongside his wife.
Brother against brother, which causes more strife.
And all the while, the rumous is rife;
There's treachery afoot,
There's blood on the knife.
But which of the innocents were killed in the throng?
It was the sweet young maid, singing her innocent song.
It was the crippled old man, who could not walk for long;
But whose hands are as black as soot?
Which of the fighters are in the wrong?
The enemy is killed, one by one --
Killed to the beat of the matching drum.
Cousin versus cousin, father strikes son.
Who has kept life's precious loot,
Under the glare of the bloodthirsty sun?
Those who were still alive,
Who strove to win and won to strive
Thought a glorious win meant a glorious life;
But there's treacher afoot,
There is blood on the knife.