Silent Mist ©
Graham Donachie
Victoria, Canada
2006
A silent mist creeps o’er the night dead field
enshrouding all who toss in restless sleep.
Dreaming the horrors of old battles fought,
will sweet life once more, be theirs to keep ?
I shiver in expectant glee with thoughts o’ souls
leaving shell shot bodies racked in luscious agonies.
Gathering the harvest o’ sunset-red sins,
how many wasted confessions shall I pardon ?
How ripe the reaping o’ patriotic folly,
my fold, the slaughter o’ sacrificial lambs.
Grows in abundance with every conflict
no more for them, the heavenly psalms.
Left...Left.....Left right left....
Left...Left.....Left right left....
I know something you don’t know..
I know something you don't know....
Satan's heart is White as snow.
Satan’s heart is White as Snow.
I know something you don't know...
I know something you don't know....
God forgot us long ago.
God forgot us long ago.
Suckle ye my military sons on
the tit o’ death.
gorge ye, my braw lads, on
Satan's sickly death.
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