You've fought in every battle,
And broken every bone.
Nothing left in what your saying,
In crowds, but all alone.
Time leaves no gaps for crying,
The dead have troubles of their own.
What is left to do when war is over?
Eyes reflect the hurt they've sown.
Enemies bring no triumph,
For your heart is too threadbear,
Your all but done in talking,
Too cold to even care.
Your mind is losing paths,
A look turns to a stare
But a hand takes yours and says
'Home? I'll take you there'
