Sometimes they come
Sometimes the gloom prevails
Like the rainy streets
Of a soldier’s beckoning call
Whilst the future’s wondered
In the midst of an Autumn fall.
The mind wanders for the reason.
The answer must be in someone’s head
As they walk along the lonely path
Lined with trees, starved and dead.
The answer doth not appear
Our protests are for nothing.
The only sounds that can be heard
Are the old-men vultures singing;
"Our cause is just – we must prevail".
The carriage comes to take our sons
To court Europe’s long-lost daughter
Her name is war. Her history long.
Her assets flashed, to help hide the slaughter.
In times after this,
When the fields have returned to bloom,
Their sorrows sympathised, their glories remembered
We will feel remorse, but will this stop the gloom?