War
Time and again,
we're fighting for the name,
the name's the name of the game.
Man against man,
we're fighting for the land,
the land that fans the ever thirsty flame.
Who gives up and who gives in.
Who will lose and who will win.
Nobody wants to be the one,
the one that tells his son,
i'll see you in heaven some day.
Instead we turn our guns,
on the ones that fell our sons,
and the mayhem never goes away.
I knelt and prayed to god,
to end the tragic rot,
of man's diseased and heartless soul.
He said to me instead,
let them fight right to their graves,
for words cannot these fools be told.
Who gives in who gives up.
Who on earth gives a fuck!
Nobody wants to be the one,
the one to stop all the fun.
We all just want to have our say,
of who is right and who is wrong,
and keep on playing the same old song,
as the death-march band marches our way...
My Mind
My mind,
twisted beyond recognition.
if i was to meet my young self now,
i would scare the shit out of me.
The darkness would scare me,
the knowledge would kill me,
the feelings, confuse me.
i wouldn't like what i would see!
How did i get here?
i look behind for clues,
but all i see are peanut shells,
left by that monkey in my shoes.
And who put the egg-beater,
in my brain and turned it?
That cake you're making better taste good
cos I think I've really earned it.
My Dream
Some days i wake up,
with that strange dream in my head.
You know, the one where we fly around
from music by the grateful dead.
what? You've never had that dream?
Surely that can't be true?
Cos here i am holding your hand,
i'm gonna say "i do".
Back up, hold on a sec!
Didn't you say we were 2 of a kind?
i thought you meant we'd be together,
until the end of time.
I won't blame you nonetheless,
cos it has to be my bad.
I should have checked right from the start,
if you had the dream i had.
The wallet
I bought some apples the other day,
from a frail old man at the market.
He sat there silently as i chose the apples
and slowly put them in a basket.
Without a sound he looked at me,
as i reached into my pocket,
and pulled out a piece of winkled leather,
that once resembled a decent wallet.
Then out of the blue he spoke to me,
and said that i looked familiar.
Right then i thought he'd lost his mind,
cos he said something peculiar.
"I gave you that when you were six",
pointing to what i was holding.
"Although it looked much better then,
now it looks like it is molding".
God! For what seemed like years,
i was frozen in the moment.
Then my lips began to speak,
without my brain's involvement.
"Grandpa is that really you?"
memories unfolding...
"Thought you died in 82?"
reality controlling...
"How is it you could be here now?"
confusion overwhelming...
"Must be a dream of sorts somehow!"
attempted reasoning.
A simple goodbye, a blink of an eye,
and suddenly he leaves.
In my hand, all that's left,
a wallet full of memories.