Rain

I don't feel a thing
And I stop remembering
The days are just like moments turned to hours

Mother used to say
If you want, you'll find a way
But mother never danced through fire shower

Walk in the rain
In the rain, in the rain
I walk in the rain, in the rain
Is it right or is it wrong
And is it here that I belong

I don't hear a sound
Silent faces in the ground
A quiet screams, but I refuse to listen

If there is a hell
I'm sure this is how it smells
Wish this were a dream, but no, it isn't

Walk in the rain
In the rain, in the rain
I walk in the rain, in the rain
Am I right or am I wrong
And is it here that I belong

Walk in the rain
In the rain, in the rain
I walk in the rain, in the rain
Why do I feel so alone
For some reason I think of home

May the 17th

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Bastogne Blues

I was hid behind the big tree that was knocked down or fallen and I could see these Germans in the woods across this big field and I saw this young kid crawling up a ditch straight towards my tree, so I let him crawl I didn’t fire at him, but when he got up within three or four foot of me, I screamed at him to surrender and instead of surrendering he started to pull his gun towards me, which was instant death for him but this young man, he was a blonde, blue eyes, fair skin, so handsome, he was like a little angel but I still had to shoot him, and it didn’t bother me the first night, because I went to sleep and I was so tired but, the second night, I woke up crying, because that kid was there, and to this day, I wake up many nights crying over this kid. I still see him in my dreams and I don’t know how to get him off my mind...

 

Men would fall on both sides, the attacks did surprise

I earned my colours true, as I lay dying with you in the forests of the Ardennes Mountains

Storms in the sky, the planes could not fly

Their sly minds desire, of trying to try, to reach the Meuse River in four (4) days

I know brother, we fear, and our wives are not near, and your child's unborn

Does here come the death? This daring we're reading of

The wind was too strong. Your war crimes are a rude sight, in Malmedy that night

In some SS fucks mind the thoughts come up to decide on the massacre of 84 men

So near, so far, the end of this War. Push your final offensive here on the Western Front

Where you try to divide us, but there's a line, where you'll retreat, defeated; Siegfried

 

Then the weather allowed a force to the sky, all progression needs fuel

Yet you try to pursue, or thieve it in your failed operations

Country wide, the levee's are smeared with my brother's demise

I'm trying to try, to remember some beautiful days

Your war crimes are a rude sight, in Malmedy that night

In some SS fucks mind the thoughts come up to decide on the massacre of 84 men

I know brother, we fear, and our wives are not near, and your child's unborn

Does here come the death? This daring we're reading of. The wind was too strong

So near, so far, the end of this War. Push your final offensive here on the Western Front

Where you try to divide us, but there's a line, where you'll retreat, defeated; The End

Endgame

And that's another thing

I baulk as I'm chalking a cue

We're post-punk, post-truth, post-Europe, post-youth

Post-modern, post-faith and God, and post-post too

As music with nothing to say plays on the radio

Snooker myself more in tryin' to pull off something bolder

If everything's behind us, where's the point in growing older?

I think too much about everything

Am I losing touch of this game I'm in?

I don't know

Now he's picking a pocket

Forcing me cause a scene

All words are infective, all memories selective

Yeah, the proof is in my Putin, as truth crumbles the perspective

I think too much about everything

Am I losing touch of this game I'm in?

I know I think too much about everything

And I'm losing touch

I'm losing touch

I know I think too much about everything

And I care too much about what I think

'Cause I regret every time I drink*

When it turns me into

It turns into someone I hate...