At me too someone is looking, of me too someone is saying, He is sleeping, he knows nothing, let him sleep on...
- Samuel Beckett in Waiting for Godot
One death too small…
And then they put guns in young hands
That would have held a pen
Honour, courage, duty - those three devils
Of wartime - they struck again and yet again
And the fetters of love and friendship
Whittled slowly away
And then - with hearts held high
And heads in the clouds
Again and again we went to war
Till blood and gore mixed with daily news
We watched without horror or despair
A million deaths were not enough
To bring home a little truth
Covered with lies told so well.
One death too small…
And then they put guns in young hands
That would have held a pen
Honour, courage, duty - those three devils
Of wartime - they struck again and yet again
And the fetters of love and friendship
Whittled slowly away
And then - with hearts held high
And heads in the clouds
Again and again we went to war
Till blood and gore mixed with daily news
We watched without horror or despair
A million deaths were not enough
To bring home a little truth
Covered with lies told so well.
Astride of a grave and a difficult birth. Down in the hole, lingeringly, the grave digger puts on the forceps. We have time to grow old. The air is full of our cries. But habit is a great deadener.
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