They Do Not Know His Harms

They slide into the arms of the enemy
All the time thinking they are patriots
The enemy beckons, a finger motioning for them to come
Come, come, it says
I will not harm
I'm your benefactor, I'm your friend
And I've come to save you from the end

And once the patriots of our land
Fall into the arms of the foe
They give their hearts
They marshall their guns
They are taken in by the deceit
They slide into the arms of the enemy
Whose lips now appear to them so sweet

The enemy caresses them
Impresses them
Whispers in their ears
The wiles of this enemy
Capture the once-noble
They escape not his arms
They follow his beckoning finger
For they do not know his harms