1994

The nights were as long as the days were short
In the reign of that year, as happiness we sort.
When our sun was car headlights that blinded the pain
And our music masks that sheltered our hearts
From the invincible enemy we knew would strike again.
The boys fashioned tents from the mangled huts,
While the girls scrapped up hope from the charred ground.
Into the night with the tune of the owls,
The howls of the strays and whispers of the wind,
We danced away the coat of the war,
That had clung to our backs like a cloak of dust.
We fought no battles; regardless we still lost the war.
Well, at least that round, along with everything we owned.
Their troops withdrew and a conscious “ceasefire” was declared.
To pay to our dead the debt that we owed them.
But that debt went far deeper than any six foot grave.
For their memories would be forever etched in our hearts.
So, with the rugged drum kits and the power of six strings,
We formed a circle around the midnight moon in combined isolation
And immortalised those we lost in song and tales.
As the sound of the rhythm and music soaked the air that night,
To the place just beyond the living where all dead souls met,
We closed the circle and prayed to our gods,
We prayed for strength in strife and persecution,
For pure thoughts and for character in defeat
And above all, for steel hearts in our path of revenge

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