A Broken Heart
I fought for King and country
On the battlefields in France
I’d volunteered for active service
For I saw this as a chance
To earn respect from those around me
And stare death full in the face
Being brave was nothing strange to me
And fear is no disgrace
I saw the clouds of chlorine rising
As we put those gas masks on
I saw men torn from their bodies
I’ve been deafened by the guns
There was mustard gas and shrapnel
And more barbed wire than in the bush
There was dysentery and typhus
And bodies oozing pus
That mud clung to your belly
And the rats they seemed to thrive
On bodies out in no-man’s land
Of soldiers not alive
My mates - some of them blinded
Some of them blown apart
And others they just disappeared
When the barrages did start
Some days, it would fall silent
And you could hear the German side
I’d guess they would be blokes like us
Just trying to survive
You’d put your head up in the trenches
And the odds were pretty high
That a sniper that you couldn’t see
Would send you to the sky.
Some of us were lucky
But so many badly died
It didn’t seem like murder
More like wilful suicide
It was hell there in those trenches
There was no glory in that war
No victory in battle
Just stripped naked and red raw
I didn’t go alone you know
I’d gone off there with some mates
We’d gone to show our bravery
And then were told to wait.
There was so much bloody paperwork
Before we could go to fight
They didn’t make it easy
Because we were not white
I’m back now in Australia
Sometimes at night I wake in fear
I can hear the guns and all y’know
And they still seem very near
In the army I was Billy
I had a real name
Now, once again, I’m just an Abo
And my life is much the same
The white men, they look down on us
Then give our women rum
They often take advantage
Then threaten us with guns.
Man! If I just had my life again
And all my mates were here
I don’t think I’d fight in that war
Nor lose myself in beer.
For I thought I’d be respected
By the whitefellas and such
But now I simply realise
We don’t matter very much
For the war, they’d made us citizens
So we could play our part
Now it’s over that’s been taken back
And I have a broken heart.
poem by David Keig
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Remembrance Day
For our king and our country and the promise of glory
We came from kingston and brighton to fight on the front line
Just lads from the farms and boys from the cities
Not meant to be soldiers we lay in the trenches
Wed face the fighting with a smile - or so we said
If only we had known what danger lay ahead
The sky turned to grey as we went into battle
On the fields of europe young men were fallin
Ill be back for you someday - it wont be long
If I can just hold on til this bloody war is over
The guns will be silent on remembrance day
Therell be no more fighting on remembrance day
By october of 18 cambrai had fallen
Soon the war would be over and wed be returnin
Dont forget me while Im gone far away
Well it wont be long till Im back there in your arms again
One day soon - I dont know when
You know well all be free and the bells of peace will ring again
The time will come for you and me
Well be goin home when this bloody war is ended
The guns will be silent on remembrance day
Well all say a prayer on remembrance day
On remembrance day - say a little prayer
On remembrance day
Well the guns will be silent
Therell be no more fighting
Oh well lay down our weapons
On remembrance day
song performed by by Bryan Adams
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Generally speaking
The guns fall silent and the dead
lie quietly they’ve played their part.
The night hour’s pass heavy with dread
at first light the big guns will start.
The sound of the artillery
will fill the silent skies again.
Eroding further bravery
of the war weary fighting men.
The brave young men on either side
are doomed to die face down in mud.
Nowhere to run, nowhere to hide.
Their dug outs do but little good.
A shell burst may not kill just maim
The lucky ones are those who die,
they are the winners in this game
when thick and fast the bullets fly.
Opposing sides move to and fro
to capture trenches they’ve just left.
For no good reason that they know
obeying orders quite bereft
of any sign of sanity.
The generals are safe behind the lines
Unlike the vast majority
who fight to fulfil their designs.
Lions by donkeys badly led
Young men by the thousand died.
A foreign field their final bed
because good sense was not applied.
In Flanders fields the poppies grow.
The soil enriched by their hearts blood
What have we learnt we did not know?
Nobody won Nobody could.
There are no winners none at all
except perhaps the carrion crows
They dine well when the soldiers fall
as mighty nations come to blows.
Survivors return home broken men
with small support and little praise.
Until they’re needed once again
when countries their new armies raise.
Another war to end all wars.
We do not learn from history
For men can always find a cause.
Why this should be a mystery.
18-Feb-08
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Three Tommies
That Barret, the painter of pictures, what feeling for color he had!
And Fanning, the maker of music, such melodies mirthful and mad!
And Harley, the writer of stories, so whimsical, tender and glad!
To hark to their talk in the trenches, high heart unfolding to heart,
Of the day when the war would be over, and each would be true to his part,
Upbuilding a Palace of Beauty to the wonder and glory of Art . . .
Yon's Barret, the painter of pictures, yon carcass that rots on the wire;
His hand with its sensitive cunning is crisped to a cinder with fire;
His eyes with their magical vision are bubbles of glutinous mire.
Poor Fanning! He sought to discover the symphonic note of a shell;
There are bits of him broken and bloody, to show you the place where he fell;
I've reason to fear on his exquisite ear the rats have been banqueting well.
And speaking of Harley, the writer, I fancy I looked on him last,
Sprawling and staring and writhing in the roar of the battle blast;
Then a mad gun-team crashed over, and scattered his brains as it passed.
Oh, Harley and Fanning and Barret, they were bloody good mates o' mine;
Their bodies are empty bottles; Death has guzzled the wine;
What's left of them's filth and corruption. . . . Where is the Fire Divine?
I'll tell you. . . . At night in the trenches, as I watch and I do my part,
Three radiant spirits I'm seeing, high heart revealing to heart,
And they're building a peerless palace to the splendor and triumph of Art.
Yet, alas! for the fame of Barret, the glory he might have trailed!
And alas! for the name of Fanning, a star that beaconed and paled,
Poor Harley, obscure and forgotten. . . . Well, who shall say that they failed!
No, each did a Something Grander than ever he dreamed to do;
And as for the work unfinished, all will be paid their due;
The broken ends will be fitted, the balance struck will be true.
So painters, and players, and penmen, I tell you: Do as you please;
Let your fame outleap on the trumpets, you'll never rise up to these --
To three grim and gory Tommies, down, down on your bended knees!
poem by Robert William Service
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Billy Get Your Guns
I just seen trouble
He's calling out your name tonite
Billy get your guns
You could walk away
But I know you were born to fight
So Billy get your guns
The bandileros are strung out
In the promenade
Billy get your guns
Chorus
Billy get your guns
There's trouble blowing like a hurricane
Billy get your guns
That's the price on your head for the
Price of fame
And it'll never change
Billy get your guns
There's a whiskey bottle empty
Sittin' on the bar
Billy get your guns
And some organ grinder singing
About some sucker moving on
Billy get your guns
All the whores are hanging out
Waiting to get paid
Billy get your guns
From some Johnny on the spot
Who said hey keep the change baby
Billy get your guns
There's trouble blowing like a hurricane
Billy get your guns
That's the price on your head for the
Price of fame
And it'll never change
song performed by by Bon Jovi
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Fortress Around Your Heart
Under the ruins of a walled city
Crumbling towers and beams of yellow light
No flags of truce, no cries of pity
The siege guns had been pounding all through the night
It took a day to build the city
We walked through its streets in the afternoon
As I returned across the fields Id known
I recognized the walls that I once made
I had to stop in my tracks for fear
Of walking on the mines Id laid
And if I built this fortress around your heart
Encircled you in trenches and barbed wire
Then let me build a bridge
For I cannot fill the chasm
And let me set the battlements on fire
Then I went off to fight some battle
That Id invented inside my head
Away so long for years and years
You probably thought or even wished that I was dead
While the armies are all sleeping
Beneath the tattered flag wed made
I had to stop in my track for fear
Of walking on the mines Id laid
And if I built this fortress around your heart
Encircled you in trenches and barbed wire
Then let me build a bridge
For I cannot fill the chasm
And let me set the battlements on fire
This prison has now become your home
A sentence you seem prepared to pay
It took a day to build the city
We walked through its streets in the afternoon
As I returned across the fields where Id once played
I had to stop in my tracks for fear
Of walking on the mines Id laid
And if I built this fortress around your heart
Encircled you in trenches and barbed wire
Then let me build a bridge
For I cannot fill the chasm
And let me set the battlements on fire
song performed by by Sting
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Didn't Mean To Fall In Love
I didn't mean to fall in love
I didn't mean to fall in love
And all I mean to say
I can't go on the way things are
How can I lead the way
It feels so wrong to be so far away
Ooh, from you tonight
If I, if I lose you, I can't survive
Didn't know you would've come tonight
Didn't hang on long enough
Didn't want to go and start a fight
Didn't mean to go, go and fall in love
It's like an avalanche
Once you fall you're swept away
I didn't stand a chance
Hangin' on every word you say
Hey, we can find a place for love
Ooh, do you want it bad enough
I didn't mean to fall in love
I didn't mean to fall in love
So could you catch a plane
Come back home for one more try
I'll never be the same
I fell so hard out of the sky today
For you, you see
And you would never believe what you do for me
Can't you see you're all I need
Didn't know you would've come tonight
Didn't hang on long enough
Didn't want to go and start a fight
Didn't mean to go, go and fall in love
(Tom Scholz, Curly Smith, Janet Minto)
song performed by by Boston
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A War To End All Wars, But Wasn’t
They not only fought the enemy,
but fought the elements as well.
They fought for their country
in lands far from home.
They fought rain, mud and the enemy
in trenches stained with blood
from those who had fallen there before.
They fought on and on
while the Generals watched
the slaughter from far away.
For their mistakes men died
by the score across the battlefield.
Their blood would stained the land
then and forever more.
Then came the gas
like a creeping mist across the battlefield
that silenced all in its wake.
It made no distinction to young or old,
just poisoned all it touched.
Their contorted bodies rotted where they fell.
They said this was a war to end all wars, but it wasn’t.
Almost twenty years later
men from different countries gathered to fight another war
and again in the trenches men fell.
The mechanics had changed;
machines became more prevalent across the battlefield,
still men died for small victories in the tide of war.
3 July 2008
poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Beer and OP Rum
They live up at the Mission
Not that far away from here
They come down in the evenings
And we give them rum and beer.
To drink they’re not accustomed
And its then we have our fun
We set the men a’fighting
And bet on the outcome.
When you’ve no women in your township,
They are always on your mind
So the women get the harder stuff
And, drinking spirits, they go wild.
Sometimes, we fight amongst ourselves
When a younger ‘gin comes down
But mostly we just take our turn
As we pass the girl around.
Myself? I am a decent man
Of good strong Irish stock
But those Abo’s cannot take their drink
And soon have had enough.
So we leave them in the paddock
And I must I do confess
Look at that pile of bodies
And often have to wretch.
At times some of the other men
Want to prolong the game
So they douse them all in kerosene
And with a match they start a flame.
Few of them are killed you know,
They mostly wake when they’re alight
And run off madly screaming
And dancing in the night.
Some of my mates take pot shots
If they can hold a gun
They aim at all those naked feet
Seeing how fast they can run.
It’s hard out in the bush, my friend
And you often feel alone
But with my beer and OP rum
It’s then I feel at home.
poem by David Keig
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Fires Of Hell
(the futility of war)
Oh, i was born your only son
And i will think of you
Before this day is done
The fires of hell surround me now
So i must fight for freedom
Against their raging guns
In all my life i never said
How much i loved you
In all this time
I never really said i cared
This war is wrong and so
I write these words
Before i give my life to the somme
In all my life i never said
How much i loved you
In all this time
I never really knew you
The fires of hell surround me, oh
The guns of hell will
Take my breath away
From my life this day
The fires of hell surround me, oh
The words i say
Must never disappear
Keep them locked inside your heart
I can hear the piper's song
And it will play for me
Before this day is done
So i will hold my head up high
If i must give my life
To stop their raging guns
Oh, i was born your only son
And i thank god for that and
That that will be done
song performed by by Uriah Heep
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Give up the fight
Do you know what's worth fighting for?
When it's not worth dying for?
Does it take your breath away and you feel
yourself suffocating?
Does the pain weigh out the pride?
And you look for a place to hide?
Did someone break your heart
inside, you're in ruins
One,21 Guns
Lay down your arms
Give up the fight
One,21 Guns
Throw up your arms into the sky
You and I...
When you're at the end of the road
And you lost all sense of control
And your thoughts have taken their toll
When your mind breaks the spirit of your
soul
Your faith walks on broken glass and the
hangover doesn't pass
Nothing's ever built to last, you're in ruins
One,21 Guns
Lay down your arms
Give up the fight
One,21 Guns
Throw up your arms into the sky
You and I...
Did you try to live on your own?
When you burned down the house and
home?
Did you stand too close to the fire?
Like a liar looking for forgiveness from a
stone
When it's time to live and let die
And you can't get another try
Something inside this heart has died, you're
in ruins
One,21 Guns
Lay down your arms
Give up the fight
One,21 Guns
Throw up your arms into the sky
One,21 Guns
Lay down your arms
Give up the fight
One,21 Guns
Throw up your arms into the sky
You and I
poem by Pawan Kumar 'Meonlafesta'
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Outside Looking In
Somebody told him that their way was the right way
He never took a chance, her never had a
chance
Cause he was force fed he had to live his
death sentence
See, he was a new face with a nice smile
He got sucked in got spit out
He was the winner by the standars of gold-digger
A success story in six figures
Outside looking in
It was wasted life on the dream
Outside looking in
He was wasted
Turn your back to the world
So then he grew old, he thought he grew wise
He thought he'd know a bad seed in swarm of flies
They couldn't wait to consider him family
Take what they could get and keep walkin'
And on his death bed surrounded by his friends
He saw the faces and no substance, let go
With a smile of serenity, he needed change for enternity
On the outside looking in
It was wasted life on a dream
On the outside looking in
He should of seen their dream as a sin
On the outside looking in
It was wasted life on the dream
On the outside looking in
He was wasted
Turn you back on the world
It's what he didn't know, he didn't know that killed him
It's what he didn't know, he didn't know that killed him
It's what he didn't know, he didn't know that killed him
It's what he didn't know
It's what he didn't know (on the outside looking in)
It's what he didn't know (it was wasted life on a dream)
It's what he didn't know (on the outside looking in)
It's what he didn't know (he was wasted)
Turn your back on the world
song performed by by 1208
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Let Them In
[edwin]
Let them in, peter
For they are very tight
Give them couches where the angels sleep
And let those free
Let them wake up whole again
To brand new dreams
And fired by the sun
Not wartimes bloody guns
And may their peace be deep
Remember where the broken bodies lie
God knows how young they were to have to die
Well, God knows how young they were to have to die
[jewel]
Give them things they like
Let them make some noise
Give (? ? ) armbands and golden harps to these old boys
Let them love, peter
For theyve had no time
They should have birds, songs, and trees
And hills to climb
The task of summer
In a ripened pear
And girls as sweet as meadow wind with flowing hair
And tell them how they are missed
But say not to fear
Its gonna be all right with us down here
Its gonna be all right with us down here
[edwin & jewel]
Let them in, peter
For they are very tight
Give them couches where the angels sleep
And let those free
Let them wake up whole again
To brand new dreams
And fired by the sun
Not wartimes bloody guns
And may their peace be deep
Remember where the broken bodies lie
God knows how young they were to have to die
And tell them how they are missed
But say not to fear
Its gonna be all right with us down here
Its gonna be all right with us down here
song performed by by Jewel
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Another Young Soldier
Another young soldier has died far away
An army representative will call on his mother today
For to tell her your son on the course of his duty has died
He served and died for his Country with his mates at his side.
Another war mother will grieve for her son
It will not matter to her if the battle was won
And it will not matter to her if her boy died brave
She will weep every time she will visit his grave.
Another young soldier to join the war dead
A bullet from a sniper hit him in the head
On his next birthday in June he would be twenty three
His loss a heavy cross to bear for his parents and members of his family.
Another young soldier may he rest in peace
At least from further suffering he has found release
Just one more to die in another man's war
On a bombed out back street in a city afar.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Afternoon Tea
As I was saying . . . (No, thank you; I never take cream with my tea;
Cows weren't allowed in the trenches -- got out of the habit, y'see.)
As I was saying, our Colonel leaped up like a youngster of ten:
"Come on, lads!" he shouts, "and we'll show 'em," and he sprang to the head of the men.
Then some bally thing seemed to trip him, and he fell on his face with a slam. . . .
Oh, he died like a true British soldier, and the last word he uttered was "Damn!"
And hang it! I loved the old fellow, and something just burst in my brain,
And I cared no more for the bullets than I would for a shower of rain.
'Twas an awf'ly funny sensation (I say, this is jolly nice tea);
I felt as if something had broken; by gad! I was suddenly free.
Free for a glorified moment, beyond regulations and laws,
Free just to wallow in slaughter, as the chap of the Stone Age was.
So on I went joyously nursing a Berserker rage of my own,
And though all my chaps were behind me, feeling most frightf'ly alone;
With the bullets and shells ding-donging, and the "krock" and the swish of the shrap;
And I found myself humming "Ben Bolt" . . . (Will you pass me the sugar, old chap?
Two lumps, please). . . . What was I saying? Oh yes, the jolly old dash;
We simply ripped through the barrage, and on with a roar and a crash.
My fellows -- Old Nick couldn't stop 'em. On, on they went with a yell,
Till they tripped on the Boches' sand-bags, -- nothing much left to tell:
A trench so tattered and battered that even a rat couldn't live;
Some corpses tangled and mangled, wire you could pass through a sieve.
The jolly old guns had bilked us, cheated us out of our show,
And my fellows were simply yearning for a red mix-up with the foe.
So I shouted to them to follow, and on we went roaring again,
Battle-tuned and exultant, on in the leaden rain.
Then all at once a machine gun barks from a bit of a bank,
And our Major roars in a fury: "We've got to take it on flank."
He was running like fire to lead us, when down like a stone he comes,
As full of "typewriter" bullets as a pudding is full of plums.
So I took his job and we got 'em. . . . By gad! we got 'em like rats;
Down in a deep shell-crater we fought like Kilkenny cats.
'Twas pleasant just for a moment to be sheltered and out of range,
With someone you saw to go for -- it made an agreeable change.
And the Boches that missed my bullets, my chaps gave a bayonet jolt,
And all the time, I remember, I whistled and hummed "Ben Bolt".
Well, that little job was over, so hell for leather we ran,
On to the second line trenches, -- that's where the fun began.
For though we had strafed 'em like fury, there still were some Boches about,
And my fellows, teeth set and eyes glaring, like terriers routed 'em out.
Then I stumbled on one of their dug-outs, and I shouted: "Is anyone there?"
And a voice, "Yes, one; but I'm wounded," came faint up the narrow stair;
And my man was descending before me, when sudden a cry! a shot!
(I say, this cake is delicious. You make it yourself, do you not?)
My man? Oh, they killed the poor devil; for if there was one there was ten;
So after I'd bombed 'em sufficient I went down at the head of my men,
And four tried to sneak from a bunk-hole, but we cornered the rotters all right;
I'd rather not go into details, 'twas messy that bit of the fight.
But all of it's beastly messy; let's talk of pleasanter things:
The skirts that the girls are wearing, ridiculous fluffy things,
So short that they show. . . . Oh, hang it! Well, if I must, I must.
We cleaned out the second trench line, bomb and bayonet thrust;
And on we went to the third one, quite calloused to crumping by now;
And some of our fellows who'd passed us were making a deuce of a row;
And my chaps -- well, I just couldn't hold 'em; (It's strange how it is with gore;
In some ways it's just like whiskey: if you taste it you must have more.)
Their eyes were like beacons of battle; by gad, sir! they COULDN'T be calmed,
So I headed 'em bang for the bomb-belt, racing like billy-be-damned.
Oh, it didn't take long to arrive there, those who arrived at all;
The machine guns were certainly chronic, the shindy enough to appal.
Oh yes, I omitted to tell you, I'd wounds on the chest and the head,
And my shirt was torn to a gun-rag, and my face blood-gummy and red.
I'm thinking I looked like a madman; I fancy I felt one too,
Half naked and swinging a rifle. . . . God! what a glorious "do".
As I sit here in old Piccadilly, sipping my afternoon tea,
I see a blind, bullet-chipped devil, and it's hard to believe that it's me;
I see a wild, war-damaged demon, smashing out left and right,
And humming "Ben Bolt" rather loudly, and hugely enjoying the fight.
And as for my men, may God bless 'em! I've loved 'em ever since then:
They fought like the shining angels; they're the pick o' the land, my men.
And the trench was a reeking shambles, not a Boche to be seen alive --
So I thought; but on rounding a traverse I came on a covey of five;
And four of 'em threw up their flippers, but the fifth chap, a sergeant, was game,
And though I'd a bomb and revolver he came at me just the same.
A sporty thing that, I tell you; I just couldn't blow him to hell,
So I swung to the point of his jaw-bone, and down like a ninepin he fell.
And then when I'd brought him to reason, he wasn't half bad, that Hun;
He bandaged my head and my short-rib as well as the Doc could have done.
So back I went with my Boches, as gay as a two-year-old colt,
And it suddenly struck me as rummy, I still was a-humming "Ben Bolt".
And now, by Jove! how I've bored you. You've just let me babble away;
Let's talk of the things that matter -- your car or the newest play. . . .
poem by Robert William Service
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Circle of Age
Standing by this mirror
and two people are staring
the two of them are caring.
Success and there is failure
i know i need to succeed
to fail a failure believes.
Keep looking all around me
this circle of destruction
this fire will cause eruption.
Same old man, the same old day
people rushing to their jobs
tick goes the clock no one stops.
I want to! I need to shine!
I cant become that old man
climbing high I know I can.
I see the dreams of glory
the luck I never tasted
bottle of rum am wasted.
Feeling like i cant take this
failing to reach the big stage
I keep circiling this cage.
Become just another man
one that grafts down the cole mines
a bright light but never shines.
No wages from the iron lady
she didnt break what a joke
Maggy she was never broke.
With no lights we couldn't shine
Maggy was ritch made of iron
circle this cage like a lion.
We cant bite, can't even fight
in the middle can't go straight
locked away we try to break.
Let me out. look! let me out
let the lion at thatcha
the workers will not catcha.
She will fall, keep falling
fall into the life we live
she wont give all that we give.
We live in the squared circle
every single day we fight
need to shine give me a light.
You aford guns we lose food
look at the babys small hands
send him off to the Falklands.
Send him off, go send him off
it's a circle in iraq
fight your war we don't come back.
Because it just never ends
life for life enemy soil
money for you from the oil.
For young men a broken mind
circling my broken heart
straight back at the 'bloody' start.
But I will just start again
I just wont be that old man
I just wont be that old man
I wont let it be to late.
poem by Daniel McCann
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Soulmates
The times that the two of us would
Walk hand in hand- not a word would be spoken
But we would understand.
Sitting at the table - both in heavy thought
Wondering how it started
Why had we ever fought.
We both got up and smiled-and said sorry to each other
For our hearts knew, there could never be another.
We are truly soul mates,
and we know each other so well
And to be without each other-would be a living hell.
We may fight and bicker as all couples do
But life is not worth living, if it’s not beside you.
soul mates are two hearts and minds both jointly entwined
That want to be together until the end of time.
They know what each other is thinking
Long before it’s done and said
For two truly soul mates are in each others head.
poem by Louis Rams
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Anxious Dead
O guns, fall silent till the dead men hear
Above their heads the legions pressing on:
(These fought their fight in time of bitter fear,
And died not knowing how the day had gone.)
O flashing muzzles, pause, and let them see
The coming dawn that streaks the sky afar;
Then let your mighty chorus witness be
To them, and Caesar, that we still make war.
Tell them, O guns, that we have heard their call,
That we have sworn, and will not turn aside,
That we will onward till we win or fall,
That we will keep the faith for which they died.
Bid them be patient, and some day, anon,
They shall feel earth enwrapt in silence deep;
Shall greet, in wonderment, the quiet dawn,
And in content may turn them to their sleep.
poem by John McCrae
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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This Time Around
It's getting colder in this ditch where I lie
I'm feeling older and I'm wondering why
I heard they told her it was tell and live or die
I didn't know her but I know why she lied
I didn't know her but I know why she died
Yeah
You can't say I didn't give it
I won't wait another minute
We're on our way this time around
Whoa yeah
You can't say I didn't give it
I won't wait another minute
We're on our way this time around
Yeah
And we won't go down
Yeah
I heard them say that dreams should stay in your head
Well I feel ashamed of the things that I've said
Put on these chains and you can live a free life
Well I'd rather bleed just to know why I died
Yeah
You can't say I didn't give it
I won't wait another minute
We're on our way this time around
Whoa yeah
You can't say I didn't give it
I won't wait another minute
We're on our way this time around
Whoa yeah
And we won't go down
And we won't go down
And we won't go down
Yeah
And we won't go down
Yeah
All I know is that fear has got to go
This time around
...This time around
I've started feeling like I don't want to fight
Give in to the given and put out the light
Cannons a blazing shower these moonlit skies
Then I remember and I know why he died
Do you know why I'd die
Yeah.
You can't say I didn't give it
I won't wait another minute
We're on our way this time around
Whoa yeah
You can't say I didn't give it
I won't wait another minute
We're on our way this time around
Whoa yeah
You can't say I didn't give it
I won't wait another minute
We're on our way this time around
Whoa yeah
You can't say I didn't give it
I won't wait another minute
We're on our way this time around
And we won't go down
And we won't go down
And we won't go down
Yeah
song performed by by Hanson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Kids With Guns
Kids with guns
Kids with guns
Taking over
But it won't be long
They're mesmerized
Skeletons
Kids with guns
Kids with guns
Easy does it, easy does it, they got something to say "no" to
Drinking out (is she real, is she)
Pacifier (is she real, is she)
Demon souls (is she real, is she)
Street desire (is she real, is she)
Didn't mean to (is she real, is she)
But it won't be long (is she real, is she)
Kids with guns
Kids with guns
Easy does it, easy does it, they got something to say "no" to
And they turn into monsters
Turning us into fire
Turning us into monsters
It's all desire
It's all desire
It's all desire
Drinking out
Pacifier
Sinking soul
There you are
Doesn't make side to
But it won't be long
Cause kids with guns
Kids with guns
Easy does it, easy does it, they got something to say "no" to
And they turn into monsters
Turning us into fire
Turning us into monsters
It's all desire
It's all desire
It's all desire
Is she, is she real, is she
Is she real, is she (it's real)
Is she, is she real, is she
Is she real, is she (it's real)
[etc]
Is she is she real
song performed by by Gorillaz
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Repression of War Experience
Now light the candles; one; two; there’s a moth;
What silly beggars they are to blunder in
And scorch their wings with glory, liquid flame—
No, no, not that,—it’s bad to think of war,
When thoughts you’ve gagged all day come back to scare you;
And it’s been proved that soldiers don’t go mad
Unless they lose control of ugly thoughts
That drive them out to jabber among the trees.
Now light your pipe; look, what a steady hand.
Draw a deep breath; stop thinking; count fifteen,
And you’re as right as rain...
Why won’t it rain?...
I wish there’d be a thunder-storm to-night,
With bucketsful of water to sluice the dark,
And make the roses hang their dripping heads.
Books; what a jolly company they are,
Standing so quiet and patient on their shelves,
Dressed in dim brown, and black, and white, and green,
And every kind of colour. Which will you read?
Come on; O do read something; they’re so wise.
I tell you all the wisdom of the world
Is waiting for you on those shelves; and yet
You sit and gnaw your nails, and let your pipe out,
And listen to the silence: on the ceiling
There’s one big, dizzy moth that bumps and flutters;
And in the breathless air outside the house
The garden waits for something that delays.
There must be crowds of ghosts among the trees,—
Not people killed in battle,—they’re in France,—
But horrible shapes in shrouds—old men who died
Slow, natural deaths,—old men with ugly souls,
Who wore their bodies out with nasty sins.
. . . .
You’re quiet and peaceful, summering safe at home;
You’d never think there was a bloody war on!...
O yes, you would ... why, you can hear the guns.
Hark! Thud, thud, thud,—quite soft ... they never cease—
Those whispering guns—O Christ, I want to go out
And screech at them to stop—I’m going crazy;
I’m going stark, staring mad because of the guns.
poem by Siegfried Sassoon
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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