wyverna
01/26/06, 10:03 AM
He falls
And a scarlet poppy flower blooms over his chest
Like a stained handkerchief billowing in the air
A signal, a label, a sign
His comrade stops, looks back, and the single second slows
Is it a second any longer? a week? a month? a year?
Would even a year change anything, the sad fact will still be true
And his friend, his brother, feels the hurt and he, too, falls to his knees
But this. Is. War.
And there is no time for stopping, no time for grieving, no time for mourning
No time
So he runs, leaves the ash white face of his once best friend behind him
'Cause they're not best friends any more
And this. Is. War.
And a scarlet poppy flower blooms over his chest
Like a stained handkerchief billowing in the air
A signal, a label, a sign
His comrade stops, looks back, and the single second slows
Is it a second any longer? a week? a month? a year?
Would even a year change anything, the sad fact will still be true
And his friend, his brother, feels the hurt and he, too, falls to his knees
But this. Is. War.
And there is no time for stopping, no time for grieving, no time for mourning
No time
So he runs, leaves the ash white face of his once best friend behind him
'Cause they're not best friends any more
And this. Is. War.