of imaginary weapons and raised invincible flags
that morning the air suffocated us with strength and wheel
of blood and victory
over ghosts from the underworld.
We hided ourselves behind our swords,
we screamed louder than ever
that's a battlefield
that's a battlefield
no one comes back alive
we all let there our tears
rivers of sorrow filled the hills
and marked our hearts with regret
because we doomed eternity with a fervent war
burning to ashes hopes and dreams
we became lonely knights
haunted by what we could be and we never became.
P.C. Franco
