Comfortable Arrows

Comfortable Arrows Lay down my friend, lay upon a muddy pillow, Such relief after a hard day playing in battle and in fear. Take off a limb or two, and slip into something gauze, Swathes of poppy red fields, crisp and clean will embrace you. Perhaps a little claret, sticky, a good nose but not too old, Warm, trickling and soothing, Vintage, with a bouquet of iron, Barbed, with a lingering finish, Perfect with a cigar, Hand rolled leaves of skin, Toasted, flakey, rubbed and lit.... Inhale, inhale through silver holes, Where sparkling bullets still ricochet, Still smoking..... Breath, pause, breathe, pause, pause..... Turn down the exploding lights, It's only a game, Those blazing fires of the cannons are far too bright for our little lot, for us to be brave, To relax, to die. Perhaps a little music will help, A bugle, a boom, a cry, a boom, a whistle, a shout, a bugle, a boom, Like the rythmn of a drum, of a heart, or a love song. Close your eyes, there's nothing more to see, To live for, To feel...... It's all in your imagination. You will not hurt anymore when dying is like being executed by smiling friends with childish bows and comfortable arrows.