This war which brings my mind to '42
Comparing to all the tactics you seem to use
She drops her country's bombs upon the green
The green of my soul which cannot be seen
The jealousy breaks me open
Making open cuts vulnerable again
Bloody tears roll the hills
Hills man-made from bombs so powerful
The dead lay, soaked red with pride,
Amongst the curves of tender Mother Earth
She cradles their bodies, protectively looking over them
Regardless that she can't do anything
Guilty for she couldn't spare their lives in the first place
But happy, proud tears roll her bloody, rosy cheeks
For she knows these innocent soldiers keep their heavenly
Grace
and they've found a better place. |
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