by Wilfred Owen
What passing-bells for these who die as cattle?
—Only the monstrous anger of the guns.
Only the stuttering rifles' rapid rattle
Can patter out their hasty orisons.
No mockeries now for them; no prayers nor bells,
Nor any voice of mourning save the choirs,—
The shrill, demented choirs of wailing shells;
And bugles calling for them from sad shires.
What candles may be held to speed them all?
Not in the hands of boys, but in their eyes
Shall shine the holy glimmers of good-byes.
The pallor of girls' brows shall be their pall;
Their flowers the tenderness of patient minds,
And each slow dusk a drawing-down of blinds.
Monday, July 28, 2014
Anthem for Doomed Youth
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Monday, July 14, 2014
See the Sky About to Rain
by Neil Young
See the sky about to rain
Broken clouds and rain
Locomotive, pull the train
Whistle blowing through my brain
Signals curling on an open plain
Rolling down the track again
See the sky about to rain
Some are bound for happiness
Some are bound to glory
Some are bound to live with less
Who can tell your story?
I was down in Dixie Land
Played a silver fiddle
Played it loud and then the man
Broke it down the middle
See the sky about to rain
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Labels: anticipation, destiny, melancholia
Wednesday, July 9, 2014
Reelin' in the Years
by Donald Fagen
Your everlasting summer, and you can see it fading fast
So you grab a piece of something that you think is going to last
You wouldn't know a diamond if you held it in your hand
The things you think are precious, I can't understand
Are you reelin' in the years?
Stowin' away the time?
Are you gatherin' up the tears?
Have you had enough of mine?
You've been telling me you're a genius since you were seventeen
In all the time I've known you I still don't know what you mean
The weekend at the college didn't turn out like you planned
The things that pass for knowledge, I can't understand
I've spent a lot of money, and I've spent a lot of time
The trip we made to Hollywood is etched upon my mind
After all the things we've done and seen, you find another man
The things you think are useless, I can't understand
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Labels: anxiety, contentment, memory, time
Wednesday, July 2, 2014
Love
by Sara Groves
Love, I made it mine
I made it small
I made it blind
I followed heart
Only to find
It wasn't love
Love of songs in pen
Love of movie endings
Takes out the break
Leaves out the bend
And misses love
Love not of you
Love not of me
Come hold us up
Come set us free
Not as we know it
But as it can be
Love's reality
Is not of passing bravery
It holds out hope
Beyond what's seen
The hope of love
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