Rocket on the floor; dead men in a war. When you hear the call, come prepared to fall. Picture on a door shows the face on the dart board, Through which the injured will soon walk. Blood on a wall; You have been here before.
Ghost in the night at last has found its sight by misdesign. The ghosts disappear in the morning light. Pocket on a leg, left there to forget. Written on a tissue in lipstick red. Numbers to regret, words I never said. All those people you left for dead.
A soldier talking about peace is an oxymoron; Put down your weapons of misfiring neurons.