Scribblings & Photos by Damian Oxborough @ finishmysong.com
Wednesday, May 24, 2006
11am
51 years have passed.
The sea keeps rolling in,
Roaring like thunder of ammo
Rushing from my brother's gun -
A last, vain effort
To protect this border
Under stormy skies.
A song is sung for the dead,
A requiem, as we huddle
Around the door together
Hoping for something warm
And an open fire if we're lucky;
A little bit of peace
Away from flashes and screams
As another man falls -
Someone else's brother
Or son or father
Falling into eternal sleep,
So deep eyes will never open
To see hurt and pain
And sickness of losing someone.
And as the rain starts to fall
Gently on this land
We remember the good times
And the people who shared them.
The sea keeps rolling in,
Roaring like thunder of ammo
Rushing from my brother's gun -
A last, vain effort
To protect this border
Under stormy skies.
A song is sung for the dead,
A requiem, as we huddle
Around the door together
Hoping for something warm
And an open fire if we're lucky;
A little bit of peace
Away from flashes and screams
As another man falls -
Someone else's brother
Or son or father
Falling into eternal sleep,
So deep eyes will never open
To see hurt and pain
And sickness of losing someone.
And as the rain starts to fall
Gently on this land
We remember the good times
And the people who shared them.
