The fires are still burning, the sounds of slow destruction all round
this battlefield is quieter now, still but not silent
the crackling of flames, the stirring of ashes in the wind
sobbing in the distance, almost to far to hear
instantly recognizable
there was no enemy here, a war raged all the same
a screaming brutal conflict of brothers beyond control
all that is left now is a broken, barren idea
an immolated emptiness

I know this field, i know it all to well
this is my mind, my soul - the place i return to endlessly
there was laughter here, once, i think. I cannot be sure
for time, betrayal, loss and pain have made it...
made it something else for so long i can no longer remember
what it may have been before or if there was a before
i must like it here, i feel, this field of empty ashes and dying fires
of cooled anger and forgotten grief
i must like it here, for i return constantly
to surround myself in the freezing, burning contradiction
of emptiness

I think i do like it here, for i choose not to leave
only here can i be
immersed in the self immolation the hurts me so.