These words are the lingering echoes of memories gone
Lost in the turmoil, drowning in the froth
Caught in stands of barbed wire
These words are the testimony to all things forgotten and thrown away
precious only in their absence
Life is a gaping maw from which death must snatch its victory
And this is how we live
running evermore into the fray
measuring each moment by its destruction.
One day we'll break free of this fetid mud
And go down to the waters of Lethe
and we'll wipe the blood from our eyes
We'll grow flowers in the wasteland
a hundred thousand blood red buds in the evening sun
each an ode to forgotten comrades
each a penance for every war we've sown
One day we'll remove our chains
and bind the wounds of all our years
the river shall carry our sins away
And when we sleep,
We'll dream of a world worth mourning
Lost in the turmoil, drowning in the froth
Caught in stands of barbed wire
These words are the testimony to all things forgotten and thrown away
precious only in their absence
Life is a gaping maw from which death must snatch its victory
And this is how we live
running evermore into the fray
measuring each moment by its destruction.
One day we'll break free of this fetid mud
And go down to the waters of Lethe
and we'll wipe the blood from our eyes
We'll grow flowers in the wasteland
a hundred thousand blood red buds in the evening sun
each an ode to forgotten comrades
each a penance for every war we've sown
One day we'll remove our chains
and bind the wounds of all our years
the river shall carry our sins away
And when we sleep,
We'll dream of a world worth mourning
Tags:
no subject
But the last line gave me chills.
no subject
writing this thing- I felt transfixed by the idea of the flowers in the old WWI battlefields, and couldn't escape the idea of 'a world worth morning'. I had to find somewhere to put it.
no subject