the stranger.

i was the  wakeful
desired and hopeful
as i watched the turning event

i'll never see again
the stranger i called friend
i can't   claim resent

i'm not the angel
on frontlines  of hell
i'm not alone, nor the saviour.

and if i fall at the line
it will  come the time
when the friend becomes the stranger

© 2010 The Still Air

Wars.

Saying last goodbyes,
screaming oaths and lullaby’s.
wondering what life’s for,
with these stories and rumors of war.

The crushed, tightly packed flowers,
underneath the lifeless soldiers.
As they tell them to implore,
into useless reasons for war.

As he’s called back into line,
the shivers run along his spine.
Has his moment come to no more?
Will he die a hero of war?

Blood stained jackets on the ground,
something so incredible would leave no sound,
they all fall down, these men where adored,
but claimed on the beaches of war.

Where is the freedom?
Buried in columns?
How could we possibly ignore,
all these stories and rumors of war.

© 2010 The Still Air