lies on the table cloth
but my mind, like that stupid moth...
deserted passages, hollow dreams
silent feelings,terrible screams
and somewhere in that brain
those blurred images remain
damaged shells install fear
swollen eyes and dried tears
and as the night gradually falls
u can't tell skulls from cannon-balls...
mesmerised by serene dust
victims of blood lust
femur peeping out of shins
whoever looses, whoever wins
strange hands close the eyes
dreaded echoes reach the sky
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