The sun founders on the horizon
as the sea mirrors the black tear
and street lamps become our stars.
No one claimed it would be easy,
no one asserted it would be nice,
but my heart still made me hope.
Where do soldiers go when the war is over
and home is merely a memory?
With a slight shudder and nausea
I wish you away and wish you’d stay.
Who are you, who are we, are we?
As the windows burst around me
and vague recollections stab me to death
there’s only one thought left –
when the years have gone by where will we be?
Now that the years have passed… what are we?