Woorden: Lia Fail. Leipzig. Restless Eyes.

AN UNPAVED ZONE SPARKLES IN SHARDS
AND IT'S COVERED BY A STRANGE LIGHT
OF PROMISED RAIN
WHERE DOES THE PATH FINISH?
WHERE DOES IT DIE?
ON THE GROUND I SEE,A PAPER,
"WAR" A THREADBARE WORD.
AND THE WIND OF THE YEARS ENTERS MY MIND
CROWDING THE MEMORIES

THERE WERE OTHERS WITH ME...
NAMES ARE GONE WITH THE WIND
IN SILENCE I LISTEN
THE CRYING OF MY COMRADES
CLOSE AND ANXIOUS
THEN DIM AND LOST IN THE FOG
WHICH SUDDENLY THICKENS.

MY RESTLESS EYES
SEARCH WITHOUT FINDING
I LET MY BREATH REST
SLICED BY THE TROUBLE
WHILE THEIR STEPS DIE AND ECLIPSE.
ONLY THE RAIN RUSTLES AT TIMES
AND THE LULLABY OF THE WIND
FLIES AMONG THE FIELDS.

THERE'S NO ART IN WAR
THERE'S NO SHAPE NOR SUBSTANCE
THERE'S NO PITY NOR HUMANITY.
BUT THERE'S BLOOD AND TERROR
AND FURIOUS GREED.
NOW THE DAY TURNS CALM ON THE PLAIN
UP TO WHERE THE CITY APPEARS
GRAY AND RED SILENT RUINS.

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