The wind blows strong through the valley of this place-
Carrying memories mingled with happiness and duress.
Of times that I've had and will never have again-
Of my most heavenly hieghts regardless of the depth of sin-
Dreams that have come and gone
like the shots of liquor in my glass.
Life seems so much more painful without
the inebriation of the past's,
The Poltergueist of years long gone
Plauge me with their nostalgic songs,
of the Green fields in May-
In the place where I call home.
How the tides of time erode
away what we once were-
and the sands of the hourglass relentlessly pours,
Leaving us with only memories,
Blissful and torturous.
We hope to find refuge in sleep
but awaken to the same plauge
of memories for which we weep.
"Soon, good sir". "Soon" says the Reaper at my back-
Scythe forever more poised for his final attack.
And the silent screams of our last breaths sigh
Pushed on by our memories, the hope that we die,
Escape from our traitorous lips
like a convict fed up-
Along with a roar of anger
That we've simply given up,
about surviving this turmoil
we affectionately know as life
While we fall victim to fates
razor sharp knife.
As a sailor, a son, a fighter, a boy.
A man, a monster, I cry for the morn.
In hope that i may find peace,
and from my pain finally release.
Release from the heartaches drink cannot cure-
Escape from this prison, what I desire.
Shall I ask from the powers that be.
Regardless of my fear that God doesnt know me.
The warm hawaiian rain falls fron the overcast sky-
Like my reasons to stay and chances to fly.
How I long for a companion or a shoulder to
I tried my hand at love-
but lost that turn.
I only begged for peace, but was given a war.
Seems that al i am, just a fighter, nothing more.