I knew the war, it was not named by date
The stream was not of blood, the ground was clean.
We looked at life with love in eye, no hate
Even the peace of talk replayed in dreams.

The war declared a date, this was not child’s play.
This of resolution, decree, and men’s wages.
The devil came to slay, all my friends died away.
We fought until we could not document it on pages.

Who won, the ground, because it got fertilizer.
And streams received its fill of blood and ships.
Who lost, we did, the ghost of death is no miser.
We don’t use books no more, we just use lips.

This is where the dead will bury the living.
Entomb the skeletons and all is forgiven.