When One Revolts.
Time when clinging steel pang the wretched souls
and war heroes lose the taste of death. Brought
back by breasts' wails with shag-eared hair– wip'ng tears;
But weapons laugh to scorn in admir'd disast'r–
and all foul are fair, and all fair are foul;
When lives bear gashes whose looks are fair on 'em,
and lives fell front to front with clinging steel.
Three ears I heard them speak, said we'd revolt,
Three hears were deaf as blood went cold to faint.
Three Sirs and MA's, three lives and dead liv'ng souls
as we died while standing, for we feared none-
theless, so we were th' black coal in white pots?
and they have come to wage against our minds?
But dying isn't an option, liv'ng isn't too.
"words from the innocent mind"