Friends footsteps falling sluggishly in muddy waters,
the sounds I hear at your name send me all aquiver
- I'm rather jumpy you should know-

So now I sit, high in my ivory cell; ink ready and pen poised.
To write my song, to write my tome.
So this ones an ode to You.

Stabbing laughter at the defeated solider, bloodshed battlegrounds.
Old women cries out for her son as the black rain falls like bullets, tink tink, they hit the ground.

So now I stand, in my dugout home, whisper the names that salvage my taste.
To write my song, to write my tome.
So this ones an ode to You.

Sewage line runs underground, and the homeless boy falls through the open drain. Down to the darkness, down to the waste, down to the nothingness which will soil his face.
And what's his prize, what's his find, but the corpse of a friend that sould have been left behind.

So now I watch, in vivid fear, water to my waist and gun in the air. Cry out for justice, sanity and order. Call out for allies stranded on the border. Only to see, only to fall, at the own feet of my once fair companion.
Only to regret that I had not been done with you sooner.

So now I lie, now I wait, words on my tombstone - current to date-
I've written my song, I've finished my tome.
The cover is shut, locked and welded in time.
The title, the title, so help me, let's read it,

-This One's An Ode To You-