Teenage Taps
When all the rosy ribbons fade
A bloody red to brown,
The military wreathes they made
Are rotting on the ground.
I’m in a hero’s heaven now
With warriors who have died:
A bed of lead that won’t allow
A single worm inside.
Instead of gathering to grieve,
Agreeing war is bad,
You women-hearted men believe:
What fighting fun I had!
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