[ lyrics: Wilfred Owen/music: J.C. Lombardo ]
bent double like old beggars in sacks
knockkneed and cursing or coughing like hags
men marched on sleeping some without boots
fatigue drunken deaf still to the hoots
of breaking gas shells
dropping softly behind
but limped on bloodshod
all went lame all went blind
gas gas quick boys fumbling helmets in time
someone still screaming a man in fire or lime
under a grey cloud dim dark through green light
in all my dreaming before my helpless sight
he plunges at me
choking guttering drowning
put in a wagon he had to keep pace
as his eyes melt to his face
if you could hear blood
gurgling from ruptured lungs
if you could witness
vile sores on innocent tongues
you would not tell me
not with such pride and such zest
the lies of history
dulce et decorum est
pro patria mori
some desperate glory
pro patria mori
as witness disturbs the story
pro patria mori
stand firm boys breathe the glory
Lyrics by Suzanne Vega
Music by Suzanne Vega and Mitchell Froom
Lolita
Almost grown
Lolita
Go on home
Hey girl
Don't be a dog all your life
Don't beg for
Some little crumb of affection
Don't try
To be somebody's wife
So young
You need a word of protection
Lolita
Almost grown
Lolita
Go on home
Hey girl
I've been where you are standing
Leaning in the doorway
In your mother's black dress
So hungry
For the one understanding
Looking for a token of
Blood or tenderness
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