Here's an ode to those whose son's have fallen on the battlefield. |
As long as you can remember, people have been fighting wars, some for lust and greed, some for the unholy power, but when the womb covers the grave, and the tears make tombstones, the soul cries for reason, and for eternities there's a scar, is the day when a broken mother, buries her own heart, and they thought it was cowardly to ask, what is all of this worth for. Go and ask a mother, whose son has fallen and she not knows yet, her eyes will be at the horizon and her heart like a cast of steel, set, will you have the courage to tell her, that her beloved son is no more, and they thought it was cowardly to ask, what is all of this worth for. Go and ask a mother, who sends her son away to the war, she gave birth to a miracle, she raised him like a czar, her king is now fighting with bullets, caught in a game of war and they thought it was cowardly to ask, what is all of this worth for. The emptiness of the silence, the gloom of the sadness, the glaze in the eyes, of the mothers of the fallen, all of it seems pointless, in the silence of a mothers grief, and they thought it was cowardly to ask, what is all of this worth for. |