Arsiero, Asiago, Half a hundred more, Little border villages, Back before the war, Monte Grappa, Monte Corno, Twice a dozen such, In the piping times of peace Didn't come to much.
All armies are the same Publicity is fame Artillery makes the same old noise Valor is an attribute of boys Old soldiers all have tired eyes All soldiers hear the same old lies Dead bodies always have drawn flies
I miss you most when you are near me, Since I once knew you but not anymore. Since “we” can no longer be, I miss you most when you are near me. If only my heart would let me be free, I could move on. My life, restore. I miss you most when you are near me, Since I once knew you but not anymore.
I wish to enter your mind; to scrub clean its walls of frenzied brush strokes and scribbled words. I will not stop until my hands blister; until I make of you a blank, echo-filled room. Only then, will I leave for you my art; A single flame, glowing bright to fill and warm. You will only feel it. But all will see it in your eyes.