window

By
I'm sitting by the window,
and all I can see,
is rain beating down,
and the reflection of me.

Now I'm looking upon,
strawberry fields,
everyone is long gone,
under the weapon he wields.

I'm tired of war,
and I'm tired of hate,
but we've come too far,
now dying will be our fate.

if only we could turn around,
free from all hard feelings,

we could,

if not for these feelings bound,
if not for these deadly dealings.





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