I was young,
I was young
And now I do not remember
The fear that was sung;
Anthems of war
And anthems of youth,
Whispers of the guns
And laughter in the shells;
The duty of the young
Pierces our lungs
And sovereignty leaks out.
Oh, what is youth?
What come before the worm
When all that surrounds
Is a castle of dirt
And the stench of empire,
Empire dying
Not in the flame
But in its own dense mould,
And what of pain?
The instant clench of the stomach
As foreign clouds
Pollute our frowning muzzles.
What then of youth?
What then of youth?
It is as fragile
As the blue blooded truth.