Con'T
Shovel dirt shovel dirt, motions I keep seeing.
And as the war rages on, dig a hole deeper,
for myself this battle is done.
As I look around to see a landscape so meek,
Think of times where trees and flowers would speak.
When Nature was the cure,
But we each coming beauty my head still filled of gore.
How long shall I suffer,
and let my head sit, muttered, cluttered
crying tears of discontent.
Push forward, HOORAH!
Plunge deep in the flurry,
Cuts, wounds, all sizes of bruises,
My body can take it,
The heart always loses.
Battle after battle,
Glory or defeat.
Each one does’t matter, the damage is done.
Arsenal depleted, time for the white flag to be drawn.
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