All hope is gone from this world of ours, We have nothing left to fight for. All that’s left are the scars of a life, That’s been lived on the edge hanging on.
We fought a war, not knowing what for; For oil, for money, for them, for sport?
The darkness is here, There is sun to shine upon us, From up above us. This is us, the dead sons.
Life drains out of me leaving a hollow shell. This is my hell. This is the cause of all my wars, Against a world that is not mine to belong to; it is yours. It is yours to ruin, or to save, or to send to its grave…
What’s life but a phase Before we reach a better place And what you feel in your heart Sometimes we all set apart There are days we are crumbling under And days again When we reach for thunder And when
I unwrite a song for she, a gratis homage. Questioning imperils the sky, clouds would not weep. A cover-up comes to quote scriptures the meaning of deployment. Was I feeling smug after counting the pages of unread death? ———————————————– I