Tears of false silver

Men were killed, That i won't deny Our teachings feel like a lie. But how many graves were truly filled? We are forced to learn, To act as such and pretend to know. But how much do we truly yearn, For those under the false silver snow? Sometimes we cry silver tears, See the dead as names and numbers, nothing more. But what do we cry for? For attention, or against false fears? We do the same crimes, Yet keep a victim's disguise, How truly long before our demise? Or will we, yet again, find a way to pick dimes?