Forlorn war dreams

Forlorn are my dreams
Which travel in the night
Disguised by the bloody screams
Which is our burden for the right

The time clock spins
Another death is not prevailed
The land grows with mens sins
Has perfection really failed?

The soil of our brothering
Saves us from the conclusion
In which we hoped tomorrow would bring
For actions invite confusion

Withered away like a winter flower
Broken hurt and scared
The ripest fruit left is sour
For not a soul truly cared

Diseased with imperfection
A battle needed not
More is left then a reflection
For memories imprint nights of the last shot