Taxied to the edge of space
I flushed A34 it said
Please make your way to the gate
The edge of life will be at stake
Don't look back don't hesitate
To piles of salt precipitate
Those whose conscience obligate
Farewell look to farewell state
Outside the bubble of time
How strange this fear of death
You win you lose it's life
But soup the soldier's mess
And those who hold on will perish
But those who let go relish
The gust of wind that's blowing in
On that cold October day.
No comments:
Post a Comment