||[Oct. 2nd, 2006|09:17 pm]
|||||Cake - Perhaps, Perhaps, Perhaps||]|
His eyes they closed and his last breath spoke, "He had seen all to be seen." A life once full now an empty vase, wilt the blossoms on an empty grave. So walk away, me boy, walk away, me boy, and by morning we'll be free...wipe that golden tear from your mother, dear, and raise what's left of the flag for me.
Then the rosary beads count them one, two, three, fell apart as they hit the floor. In our garb of black we must pay respect to the colour we're born to mourn. In his place there grew an angry festered wound filled with hatred and remorse, where I'd pick and scratch till the blood it matched the silent rage not that fills my lungs. For there are many ways to kill a man they say with bayonet, axe, or sword...but son a bullet fired from a shapeless guise leaves but the shell of a Thompson gun.
From the East out to the Western shore, where many men and many more will fall...but no angel flies with me tonight till freedom reigns on all. And curse the name for which we slaved our days till every man shall his kingdom come. But sure as night turns day ends the passion play: Oh my god what have they done? With madman's rage, well they dug our graves, but the dead rise again you fools.
So walk away, me boys, walk away, me boys and by morning we'll be free...and wipe that golden tear from your mother, dear, and raise what's left of the flag for me.