Yes I conquered these woods in the fall
Me wounded
Comrades falling by my side-Dying in my arms
Again and again we ****** ourselves against them like a wave against sand
Weaving through the trees
We ran out of bullets and had to use knives
Out numbered by a margin legends are made of
Being stabbed or shot always somewhere non-vital
Gasping but never crying at the pain
The dead leaves under us with their own sharp gasp
Then I was called to dinner
Throwing Pellet gun and Beer can grenades aside
I ran home
Yes
As a child I conquered these woods in the fall
Apr 7, 2013
Apr 7, 2013 at 9:51 PM UTC
Yes I conquered these woods in the fall
Me wounded
Comrades falling by my side-Dying in my arms
Again and again we ****** ourselves against them like a wave against sand
Weaving through the trees
We ran out of bullets and had to use knives
Out numbered by a margin legends are made of
Being stabbed or shot always somewhere non-vital
Gasping but never crying at the pain
The dead leaves under us with their own sharp gasp
Then I was called to dinner
Throwing Pellet gun and Beer can grenades aside
I ran home
Yes
As a child I conquered these woods in the fall
