12-17-2007, 07:12 AM
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The madman, though not half-so-mad now,
Turns the white to war.
History repeats itself, oh my Brothers,
History cares not for these men.
He smokes, snow falling,
Contemplating his own death.
Tobacco stained hands twist,
Sending another pawn to war.
They do not speak, oh my Brothers,
Because language means nothing,
Because words are not enough,
Because there are no words.
They are both mad,
And in this madness have found each other.
Turns the white to war.
History repeats itself, oh my Brothers,
History cares not for these men.
He smokes, snow falling,
Contemplating his own death.
Tobacco stained hands twist,
Sending another pawn to war.
They do not speak, oh my Brothers,
Because language means nothing,
Because words are not enough,
Because there are no words.
They are both mad,
And in this madness have found each other.