En.Citatepedia^®.ro

At a enemy airfield

Camouflaged, hidden in some underbrush
we lay and watch with special binoculars,
scanning the enemy facilities
while the night is setting in
and twilight has magic pertaining to it

some bright lights are being switched on
and some oil or another mechanical liquid
gleams out on the tarmac
where we see some enemy Mig-23 fighter jets
being readied for war

and then some more taxiing out
standing ready for takeoff on the runway
waiting on the arrival of
a small private jet,
(maybe with military officers landing)

and with a small device
exact positions are obtained,
that we report
over a frequency hopping
two way radio system

Johnny the second in command
says that he will almost do anything
to be able to smoke a cigarette right now.

We are asked to confirm the target positions,
by another party
which is now connected to us
and we recheck and confirm
while the sound of the landing
private jet is almost deafening

and positions of other targets
and installations are asked for,
which we supply
including the control tower

and I see stars falling, falling at high speed
from the sky
making the night gleam
going off like lightning
in brilliant colors of flaming orange,
white and red
with ultra loud exploding sounds

and howitzer canon projectiles
from G5 and G6 guns are coming in,
destroying the Migs and a lucky shot
hits the commercial jet right on target
and craters are left
and the next volleys
set some of the buildings ablaze,
rips hangers open
and those deadly manmade stars keep falling,
while functioning like machines
we keep giving targeting directions.

poem by Gert Strydom
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The night is full of brown Ratel armoured cars

The night is full of brown Ratel armoured cars
and Olifant tanks
that drives and rolls in on the ground
and salvos from rocket launching trucks
that draws arcs
and in the distance howitzer canon reports
in volleys
and when a light flare suddenly falls
it is as if the bushes are teeming
with enemy tanks and armoured cars
just where I look
and it looks
like the day of judgement.

Projectiles find their targets
and canister-shot comes down exploding thundering
and it’s an apocalyptic night
for some of the enemy
who are burning,
scorched and blown to smithereens in their armour
and when a tank
suddenly appears out of the bushes
there is a hell of a red thunderclap
as a shot from another Ratel hits it deadly
and I realize that even here
a person’s time is measured out
and around me there are fireworks
like stars falling from the sky
while we stop and aim
the following killing shot.

poem by Gert Strydom
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Situation Report On A Reconnaissance Expedition

We went to reconnoitre enemy positions
being dropped from very high by parachute
in a dark moonless night
and I couldn’t even see the stars
as I came down to the ground
and there wasn’t any sign of light
up to the horizon.

After landing we grouped together
following a compass
walked miles and miles north east
saw the rising sun
walked right through the day

and did not find any enemy,
found no activity or any sign of man
crossed some small rivers marked on the map

saw a lot of crocodiles, some hippopotamuses
came across a lion kill
where they lay snarling at us
and as hiking through the bush go
this was excellent
as we saw almost all of the big five first hand,
while moving between them
and came back alive
but in a strategic military sense
it was of no value.

poem by Gert Strydom
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Had found its mark

The night I saw you die
under a star struck cross
against the night sky
near the end of the age

your eyes were flaming with rage
as if that fire could leap
and set the night alight

and howitzer guns roared
sending their disciples
with thundering flame
across many miles

to convert with death and blood
and as fast as the enemy came
flooding the bush, the veldt
with armoured chariots

exploding shells, rocket bombs
and projectiles
decimated them
as if the inferno in your eyes
had found its mark
turning every enemy ablaze.

poem by Gert Strydom
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Insertion (Enclosed Triplet)

With the bright moon that is tonight missing
as if it has suddenly strayed somewhere
the stars dimmed out, the air is rushing

while almost like a machine I am falling
from very high while breathing pure oxygen,
an exploding lightning bolt makes my ears sing

while the altimeter I am watching;
with each enemy guard, guard-tower primed
against penetration, in I am fluttering,

at terminal velocity it’s terrifying,
while life comes to a standstill around me
but that moment is but very fleeting

before a device is reminding
that the rushing ground is almost too near
and the jerking parachute is opening;

right after the equipment bag I am landing,
snatching off the chute, cocking the weapon,
with the bright moon that is tonight missing.

poem by Gert Strydom
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Beyond enemy lines

Above me there’s an onyx sky
and the tarry night is fading fast
and I hear the roar
of enemy armour
and the crunching of tracks
echoes and sound very
near to me.

An electronic signal rushes
thousands of kilometres far
and goes into a night
filled with bright white stars
like a lighting bolt
falling in a dark black sky
and branching out to where
it has to go
to a place where Jacaranda trees
stand in purple bloom.

I match my wits against my fate
and crawl deeper into cover
of a thorn bush
and gird my soul to face
the enemy in war
and we lay and wait
and there are three of us
against a horde of enemy armour.

The light of dawn is still grey
and they get very near
and it’s a thundering sound
when the first tanks
and armoured cars appear
like hungry dragons
coming to the feast.

I look up in an indigo sky
and eagles and vultures
bend down out of the sun
and descend in deadly haste
transforming into Cheetah
and Mirage fighter jets
and the radio
let me talk to them
and the end of life
and dire chaos
is unleashed unexpectedly.

Only the birds of prey
save me from the hate
of great steel monsters,
that is ready to squash and kill
and missile and rocket arrows
leap descending out of the air
and red and yellow flames appear.

After a while the planes of war
thunder away to the South
and the fire fades
and around us there are
upturned and destroyed wrecks
of man’s war machines
and a slaughtering of humans
and the smell of death
cuts right through my breath,
as if it wants to engulf
and I retch and feel inhuman
and my comrades smile bravely
and say very well done
and around me
all other life is gone,
but for the three of us.

poem by Gert Strydom
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The air was full of fire and sand

The night that I wished to be home
as the path we were on
lead to death
and not like the axiom to Rome

behind enemy lines
we called in the vultures of death
and the chill froze my breath
in clouds in the bright moonlight,

followed the mist from the river
penetrating ever deeper
into the enemy positions
we hid almost in their midst

and with the rising sun
eerie birds came screeching down
with flaming afterburners
dropping rockets and bombs
on enemy tanks,
shelling armoured cars
with raging canon
and the air was full
of fire and sand.

poem by Gert Strydom
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A shot rang out like lightning out of a gun

Goodbye to the land where the sun always shine,
to the blue sky that always is bright,
goodbye to the light that comes every day
and hello to that midnight which is cold and dark.

A shot rang out like lightning out of a gun
fading the sun while white vapour rose
out of a shot out armoured car,
I couldn’t close my eyes or look away.

Goodbye to that enemy tank stopped in its tracks
against a bank of earth
while my armoured car’s gun rang out
sending a phosphorus shell with fire from hell.

A rocket flew past with a flaming tail
like a star falling from the sky
before exploding against a tree with a blast

and goodbye to the enemy soldiers who fired it
while we moved past at speed
with a machinegun howling a great cry.

I heard that enemy commander weeping over the radio
while his frequencies were blocked
being in shock
and sounding like the voices of many men

crying in the anguish of death
as if a deadly net had been cast
and I wish that I could understand Spanish
but the noise was ear-splitting

and it was goodbye to tank after tank
and goodbye with blast after blast and going in quick
stopping, firing and running away fast

and every enemy armoured car we found
only got one shot
till the last shell had being fired

and tired we went to fetch some more,
ate in a hurry before being wished good luck
and going back to war.

poem by Gert Strydom
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Hiroshima almost returning

I saw Buccaneer bombers lined up
with bombs being loaded into bomb bays,
the ultimate of weapons coloured
in copper red with lead tips,
with pilots waiting on the attack command
strapped into their cockpits,
canopies closing,
taxiing to takeoff positions
and then again waiting there,
later switching engines off

and I wondered where these men
would unleash the manmade suns
if and when the attack command come

and if there would be winter, death and disaster
for a thousand years
and if this action would bring us endless tears
with similar retaliation in return
from some sympathetic soviet superpower
as a token of goodwill
to the countries being attacked

and far too clever for me were those
weapons of mass destruction,
that had the ability to burn even shadows
right into concrete
but luckily the order never came to proceed.

poem by Gert Strydom
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The Artilleryman's Vision

WHILE my wife at my side lies slumbering, and the wars are over long,
And my head on the pillow rests at home, and the vacant midnight
passes,
And through the stillness, through the dark, I hear, just hear, the
breath of my infant,
There in the room, as I wake from sleep, this vision presses upon me:
The engagement opens there and then, in fantasy unreal;
The skirmishers begin--they crawl cautiously ahead--I hear the
irregular snap! snap!
I hear the sounds of the different missiles--the short t-h-t! t-h-t!
of the rifle balls;
I see the shells exploding, leaving small white clouds--I hear the
great shells shrieking as they pass;
The grape, like the hum and whirr of wind through the trees, (quick,
tumultuous, now the contest rages!)
All the scenes at the batteries themselves rise in detail before me
again; 10
The crashing and smoking--the pride of the men in their pieces;
The chief gunner ranges and sights his piece, and selects a fuse of
the right time;
After firing, I see him lean aside, and look eagerly off to note the
effect;
--Elsewhere I hear the cry of a regiment charging--(the young colonel
leads himself this time, with brandish'd sword;)
I see the gaps cut by the enemy's volleys, (quickly fill'd up, no
delay;)
I breathe the suffocating smoke--then the flat clouds hover low,
concealing all;
Now a strange lull comes for a few seconds, not a shot fired on
either side;
Then resumed, the chaos louder than ever, with eager calls, and
orders of officers;
While from some distant part of the field the wind wafts to my ears a
shout of applause, (some special success;)
And ever the sound of the cannon, far or near, (rousing, even in
dreams, a devilish exultation, and all the old mad joy, in the
depths of my soul;) 20
And ever the hastening of infantry shifting positions--batteries,
cavalry, moving hither and thither;
(The falling, dying, I heed not--the wounded, dripping and red, I
heed not--some to the rear are hobbling;)
Grime, heat, rush--aid-de-camps galloping by, or on a full run;
With the patter of small arms, the warning s-s-t of the rifles,
(these in my vision I hear or see,)
And bombs busting in air, and at night the vari-color'd rockets.

poem by Walt Whitman
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When The Night Comes Falling From The Sky

Look out across the fields, see me returning.
Smoke is in your eyes, you draw a smile.
From the fireplace where my letters to you are burning,
Youve had time to think about it for a while.
Well, Ive walked two hundred miles, look me over.
Its the end of the chase and the moon is high.
It wont matter who loves who.
Youll love me or Ill love you
When the night comes falling,
When the night comes falling,
When the night comes falling from the sky.
I can see through your walls and I know youre hurting.
Sorrow covers you up like a cape.
Only yesterday I know that youve been flirting
With disaster you somehow managed to escape.
Well, I cant provide for you no easy answers.
Who are you that I should have to lie?
Youll know all about it, love.
Itll fit you like a glove
When the night comes falling,
When the night comes falling,
When the night comes falling from the sky.
I can hear your trembling heart beat like a river.
You must have been protecting someone last time I called.
Ive never asked you for nothing that you couldnt deliver.
Ive never asked to set yourself up for a fall.
I saw thousands who could have overcome the darkness,
For the love of a lousy buck, Ive watched them die.
Stick around, baby, were not through,
Dont look for me, Ill see you.
When the night comes falling,
When the night comes falling,
When the night comes falling from the sky.
In your teardrops, I can see my own reflection.
It was on the northern border of texas where I crossed the line.
I dont want to be a fool starving for affection.
I dont want to drown in someone elses wine.
For all eternity I think I will remember
That icy wind thats howling in your eye.
You will seek me and youll find
Me in the wasteland of your mind.
When the night comes falling,
When the night comes falling,
When the night comes falling from the sky.
Well, I sent you my feelings in a letter
But you were gambling for support.
This time tomorrow Ill know you better.
Where my memory is not so short.
This time Im asking for freedom,
Freedom from a world which you deny.
And youll give it to me now,
Ill take it anyhow.
When the night comes falling,
When the night comes falling,
When the night comes falling from the sky.

song performed by by Bob Dylan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Till the shooting ended

The fine press of binoculars against eye,
speech apparatus against mouth,
bodies camouflaged against the ground
made burning stars
fall from the sky.

Projectiles from G-5 howitzer canons
blasting from more that forty kilometres away
crossed the sky
in parabolas adjusted fine
and smashed enemy tank and armoured car
to pieces.

Flames throwing their tongues
orange-red to the sky,
enemy weapons pierced,
a commander with cigar in his hand bended,
enemy soldiers of whom
intestines rained down in pieces
in a moment where everybody
met the maker
and pools of red blood
and shot-out scrap
was all that marked the place of slaughtering.

l’Envoi
Till the shooting ended,
men stopped dying,
when too many were killed and pierced
and a war on the backside
of Africa was lost
and even the Russians knew
to forget about any victory
and the Cubans returned to Cuba
and never again Fidel Castro
could try and clench his fist round Africa.

[Reference: The Battle of Cuito Cuanavale were South African Reconnaissance Commandos (Recce’s) and artillery gun crews played a major role.]

poem by Gert Strydom
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The road ahead dissolved into dust

The road ahead dissolved into dust
and we could not see the track
nor any of the other fighting vehicles
consisting out of Olifant main battle tanks
and Ratel armoured cars that were ahead of us.

Bushes were covering the veldt
on all sides and around us,
the early morning fog
had drifted over from the river
and worse still tried to cover things

and in the distance I heard the cannon
of a enemy tank blasting off a projectile
and almost felt the impact hitting us,
but it shrieked past

and at speed we left the track
rammed through some bushes
and the Ratel-90 armoured car
draw to a halt
and our return shot
found its mark

and we had to take another one
to make dead sure
of the destruction
of the Russian manufactured T-55 tank
before speeding away
trying to avoid being hit

and found another target
and one more and another after that
and later even filling the night
with bright flashing canon flame,
sending death out with projectiles
to whichever enemy that we found.

poem by Gert Strydom
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Wings of destiny

I

Ask any parabat that jumped at Cassinga
and he would tell you
that destiny has wings.

While facing a battalion of
Cuban tanks and armoured cars,
out of the blue and as if by magic
a Buccaneer appeared.

There was nothing more beautiful
than to see that jet
making self-sacrificing dives,
before it flew off to disappear
into the blue sky,
but let me tell that heroic story
as I know it.

II

Coming back from a bombing raid on Cassinga
the next target of Captain Dries Marais was
the Swapo camp at Chetequera
and he insisted
on arming the Buccaneer bomber,
with armour penetrating rockets
in addition to the standard
high explosive rockets.

Andries Marais himself
couldn’t explain the reason
for the irregular request,
but kept on insisting
that every third rocket
should be armour piercing.

Even navigator Ernie Harvey
was perplexed with this request
and they were tense,
while preparing for
the strike mission.

The Buccaneer took of
and in a short while
crossed the Angolan border
and just when Ernie Harvey
were going to check in
with Tactical headquarters
things went mad
on the operational frequency.

The pilot Warneke
who had relieved them at Cassinga,
reported a armoured battalion
consisting out of tanks
and BTR 152 personnel carriers approaching.

The operational frequency
was far too cluttered
to get through to Tactical headquarters
and they heard
two Mirages being scrambled,
but there wasn’t time to arm them
and they had only
only 30 mm cannon.

You need an excellent navigator
to keep tract to a target
over the featureless Angolan countryside
and navigator and weapon systems operator Ernie Harvey
had replaced the maps
with the ones of the new target,
but the navigation computer
still had the settings.

III

When fighting against tanks
and armoured cars
with only a few landmines
and rocket propelled grenades
to stop them,
even light machine guns
are quite useless
and still I kept on shooting
while the LMG’s barrel got red hot
and I tried to keep the enemy back.

There was great joy
to see two Mirages
cutting the armoured cars apart,
but the surprise on the enemy
of that Buccaneer
dropping out of the sky
with its armour piercing
rockets will stay with me
to eternity.

Two tanks were shattered
and stood burning
after the first past
and the twin-barrelled 14.5 mm anti-aircraft guns
that the BTRs were trailing
were being deployed
and the Buccaneer
took one of the anti-aircraft guns out.

Suddenly the air was filled
with Puma helicopters landing
and the Buccaneer
took out a BTR
and two tanks started shelling us
and the Buccaneer kept diving
at close to the speed of sound
until the tanks disappeared
into the bush
and we lifted of safely.

There was nothing more beautiful
than to see that jet
making self-sacrificing dives,
before it flew off to disappear
into the blue sky.

Later I heard that 17 hits
were counted on that Buccaneer
that safely landed at Grootfontein base
and to this day,
I know about no greater heroes
than the two
flying in that Buccaneer.

.
[Reference: Cassinga Swapo military camp / town. Parabat=> South African Airborne / Parachuting soldier.]

poem by Gert Strydom
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Na Na Na Na

[Supercat]
This is the "Long Long He Love" fe the gal dem, Na, Na, Na Na,
The Rapper Don and 112 he nah gon stay pon the shelf.
I wanna see you rock that ass
Rock that ass
Rock that ass
Rock that ass
Work your body body
Work your body body
Work your body body
Work your body body
Change positions
Change positions
Change positions
New position
I want a new position
Twirk it for me
Twirk it for me
Twirk it for me
Twirk it for me
[Q]
Come a little closer baby
Girl I want to feel your body
Lead you right next to me
We can be the life of the party
I just wanna let you know
I love the way your movin
Never wanna let you go
Never wanna stop the music
[Chorus:]
Girl Na Na Na Na
You don't know what you doin to me
Girl you lookin so sexy
When you doin the dance for me
Hey we goin Na Na Na Na
You don't know what you doin to me
Girl you lookin so sexy
When you doin the dance for me
[Slim]
Now that I've got you babe
Know we gotta keep it sexy
Touchin all over me
Baby it's ecstasy
Lady won't you take my hand
Let's go to VIP I don't think you understand
What you are doin to me
[Chorus:]
Girl Na Na Na Na
You don't know what you doin to me
Girl you lookin so sexy
When you doin the dance for me
Hey we goin Na Na Na Na
You don know what you doin to me
Girl you lookin so sexy
When you doin that dance for me
I wanna see you rock that ass
Rock that ass
Rock that ass
Rock that ass
Work your body body
Work your body body
Work your body body
Work your body body
Change positions
Change positions
New positions
I want a new position
Twirk it for me
Twirk it for me
Twirk it for me
Twirk it for me
[Supercat]
I'm hollerin at this shorty
This hot cutie beautie
Tell me said that she was the managing duty
She said she come in about work 10:30
Tell her fe come a Room 112 and check me
Between you and I we're havin a private party
Sittin me down on the bed that means you're ready to strip me
Jump off her coat and she take off the Vicki night
Yard them gal them love the backshot
Prima gal them love the backshot
S:.. gal them lovely said love and me said
Put pon the shoulder gon touch head back
ATL girl them make them lock
Me said New York gal love it all like a yak (non-stop)
A rapper dapper bounce back feel where the pepper come from blaze up the shot
[Chorus:]
Girl Na Na Na Na
You don't know what you doin to me
Girl you lookin so sexy
When you doin the dance for me
Hey we goin Na Na Na Na
You don know what you doin to me
Girl you lookin so sexy
When you doin the dance for me
I wanna see you rock that ass
Rock that ass
Rock that ass
Rock that ass
Work your body body
Work your body body
Work your body body
Work your body body
Change positions
Change positions
Change positions
New position
I want a new position
Twirk it for me
Twirk it for me
Twirk it for me
Twirk it for me
[Chorus:]
Girl Na Na Na Na
You don't know what you doin to me
Girl you lookin so sexy
When you doin the dance for me
Hey we goin Na Na Na Na
You don know what you doin to me
Girl you lookin so sexy
When you doin the dance for me

song performed by by 112
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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This... there's nothing more difficult than this. Because we have really, truly good white people in important positions. And the fact of the matter is that there are a limited number of those positions. And unless we are conscious of the need to have more people of color, gays, other people in those positions we will not change the problem. We're in a position where you have to say who is going to step down so someone else can have power.

quote by Mark Lloyd
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Why?

If I could paint
I would paint a portrait
of a shot out Ratel armoured car
standing in a landmine field.

Out of which the smoke still rises
And I would print in defencelessness
with every brush stroke
of armoured steel failing
against projectiles
and then becoming a coffin

and enemy soldiers standing grinning
with teeth brilliant white
and bones of fallen comrades
that tried to stop a horde of barbarians
and hyenas and jackals standing drooling
and vultures turning in the sky

and in the background till the horizon
enemy tanks, armoured cars
and men would lay shot to pieces
with pools of blood, intestines
and shot of legs and hands

and the title would be: Why?

poem by Gert Strydom
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Flying at night

The sticks are strapped in
and there’s a slight chill,
in the early morning air.

Black tiger stripes,
are painted over our faces
and we are waiting for takeoff.

It’s much colder when the plane rises
and flies low to avoid enemy radar
and enemy Mig fighters.

There’s a yellow moon hanging low
and some stars pass,
with bright twinkling eyes.

The plane gains altitude,
before the light starts flashing
and the end of the flight draws near.

Commands are given
and something hard is in my stomach
and I hear air rushing at the open door.

I get my turn to jump and I’m free
and it’s like falling away into oblivion,
but the ground is rushing towards me.

poem by Gert Strydom
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Cassinga

Just like spring when the blue sky is full of falling leaves,
there are three hundred and seventy parachutes that decent,
on a ominous day
with enemy AA-guns reporting
and the enemy are more
than a thousand and a half in number.

The barrels of the enemy AA-guns are lowered,
to break us
and the enemy tries to sow havoc
and to decimate us.

Enemy snipers are shooting from trees
and from everywhere
there are shots being fired,
that munches pieces from us

From behind ruins
we fire almost endlessly
at trenches where some enemy soldiers hide
and launch mortar bombs
all over the place,
while bullets are coming down like rain.

We return heavy fire
to the enemy at the AA-guns,
while other soldiers replace them
which keeps the battle hanging in balance

Shot after shot are being fired
and the smell of death
is strong in the air
and there’s nowhere
for the enemy to escape to.

The last resistance disappears
and there’s apparent peace
and dead enemies everywhere
and some of the bats,
get into pumas
and the rest of us wait
with nowhere to go.

The border is too far to walk
and there’s nothing to drive away with,
when Cuban tanks and armoured cars
find us there.
.
With RPG-7 iron fists
four tanks are destroyed
and a landmine stops another tank in its tracks,
but only paratroops against oncoming armour
are canon feed
and nothing diminishes the danger
of a Cuban mechanized battalion.

Till two Mirages destroys ten armoured cars
and everywhere there’s smoke and dust
and a Buccaneer comes from the sun,
to let moments turn into eternity.

Time after time
it flashes by and fires its rockets
at the oncoming tanks
and with no ammo left,
dives fearlessly over shooting AA-guns
to make the tanks take cover.

It’s very ruff going
but the last pumas land
in a clouds of dust,
to evacuate us
while enemy tanks keep firing.

I try and hold the rearguard with a LMG
before the shot out ruins fades away from me
and we leave forty living enemies behind
and all of us are safely gone,
but for four brave men
whose lives are spent.

[References: AA-guns=> Anti aircraft guns. Bats=>Parabats=>Airbourne soldiers. RPG-7 iron fists=> Rocket propelled grenade launchers=> Bazookas. Mirages=> Mirage fighter jets. Buccaneer=> Buccaneer ground support bomber. Pumas=> Puma helicopters. LMG=> Light machinegun.]

poem by Gert Strydom
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Its Ok

Its ok
Love is only meant for some
Im the rock
The shoulder you can cry on
I keep the walls from falling down
I keep the walls from falling down
I keep the walls from falling down
Ill play it straight
While you laugh and drink and party all night long
Ill designate myself
To be the driver who takes you home
I keep the walls from falling down
I keep the walls from falling down
You can be pretty and tragic
Ill try to keep the walls from falling down
You can be beautiful and fabulous
Ill try to keep the walls from falling down
I cant reach the pain you feel
But Ill try to keep the walls from falling down
If you can hold on
Lose your fear
Ill try to keep the walls from falling down
Falling down
Falling down
Where is your saint
To let you know youre not alone
To bring you peace
Help me be your friend your confidante
And keep the walls from falling down
Keep the walls from falling down
Keep the walls from falling down

song performed by by Tracy Chapman
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Sky Is Falling

The ground shakes,
Stars pour down like tears, like rain.
Amongst the roaring earthquakes,
We hang our sorry heads in shame.

The voice that cries out is small,
But it's strong.
A flicker of hope-
Before it's already gone.

The sky is falling,
And so am I-
Can't you hear me calling?
Cover me with the sky.
I bask in your glow,
All though it's ten below.
I'll be with you, wherever you go.

The sky is falling, the sky is falling.

Don't you cry,
Little bird.
The sky is quite soft-
Or so I've heard.
So, keep your hopes held high,
Then reach up and touch the sky.
And kiss the bitter world goodbye,
Kiss the bitter world goodbye.

The sky is falling,
And so are we.
Can't you hear that I'm calling?
Pour my tears in the sea.
I bask in your light,
All though it's dark as night.
And everything will be all right,
Everything will be all right.

The sky is falling,
The sky is falling.

The sky is falling, the sky
is falling.

poem by Katty Livingston
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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