Shall the Children Play Fall?(red hands)

Shall the children play the fall?
Would the hills run red?
Through red shadows they will crawl.
When nothing and everything has been said.

While the waves hit the shore
Will the bodies be washed from memory?
Will their lives and all they fought for
Be taken and engulfed in the sea?

Brother, we’ll have you home soon
Just hold my hand and hold the red
As the blood-stained sun sets at noon
Lie beneath my fire as the field is fled

At least we can thank our god
That the bullets travel farther than the splatter
The fighting fight has not been lost
In the stagnant pools of life, let us gather

Through hate the sheep are lead
Don’t fight to kill; we now fight to live
On the long since silenced, we tread
They find the life in the death they give

The horrid scent of day lives in the air
And that of victory will raise the dead
I leave this note not with blood but with care
In this bleeding blood, the blood’s been bled

I sincerely write this in a murderous lust
A kind that returns power to the “O”
Raise the baby through malevolent trusts
Hoist it high, and slowly let it go...