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My father believed that to truly defeat an enemy,
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you must know him better than yourself.
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I know this enemy well.
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They play only to their strengths,
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and will not be drawn into open combat.
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Instead, they pick at the scab until we bleed,
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hiding in the shadows like animals,
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striking hard and fast
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then falling back into the night.
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Come the dawn, we count our losses and sow the earth with our dead.
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This is a new kind of war,
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a war without honour, without end.