Walking Corpse’
In a sea of green they got lost in the ditches
martyrs to a war, saviors of the poor.
ignorant to the cause but so eager to score
brothers in arms holding each other stitches.
Boasting youth so willing to submitt to old ways
giving life before time runs away...
heros of a nation gathering like cattle to the slaughter;
old age's will, some would say.
with a buzz cut and a shave they are new men
a new look and a pair of boots.
boastfull youth mending the fences. Proud to shoot...
"We learned to fight together"
In foxholes fox trotting away from deaths grip
swimming in a sea of red they get lost in the reef.
trading bullets for thoughts, bombs for peace.
war is predictable grief.
losing brothers by the minute, the family tree runs dry,
while its roots soak in the souls.
bravery is a funny thing. But theres always irony
in comedy, some how that makes it ok.
to chase death and not want it, to loathe life and then cherish it.
they pleaded guilty to peace. but the guns kept judging.
those nights the wind blew a little harder.
and the moon hung in the sky a little longer.
disillusioned youth keeping the fence up,
growing years by the bullet wound.
"We made it home heros"
forgotten youth martyrs to a welcome that never came
in a sea of americans they get lost in the translation.
A thrown away sacrifice; Chasing redemption.
so wounds never heal and the scars never mend.
the love of naypalm in the morning
is infectious.
dreaming of sleep with eyes wide shut.
war is contagious.
trying to forget who they are in the dusk.
Forgotten youth, left back when they where young.
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