Bedridden Gunfire

Bedridden Gunfire I hear those gunshots. Every night My ears echo with the sounds of a fight The young hours routinely drag Spent questioning the point of dying for a flag Behind my eyelids I see the dead Dismembered limbs, smoking bones, the occasional head The final cries of past friends haunt my dreams Unable to forget their eternal screams As morning approaches the screams fade away Kept at bay by the morning rays I step out of bed and into tomorrow Shrug off my feelings of secluded sorrow I step out onto the uniform streets Pale flesh, bony hands and dull white eyes drop into the car seat The lonely engine roars into life The roar in my ears like a jagged knife Into the grid-lock I inevitably arrive I observe the passing faces; so young and alive My pale glare makes them turn away Maybe they're just pitiful, who's to say? Past the meaningless colourful signs Reflecting that glaring, blinding sunshine I close the muddy windows, hide from the sight In a dark-brown box for a face so white I pull into the car park Surprisingly dark A single light, at the end of the road I drive towards it, to my eternal abode Out of the car and into a white elevator I watch the floor-counter grow greater and greater I ascend to the top, above the city White doors open and the view is so pretty Step past the elevators gates, onto the ground Soft as a cloud; hardly makes a sound I walk to the buildings edge, and look past my feet Think of the maker whom I will shortly meet I'm so tired of nostalgia and fear Pure-white wings fly right past my ear All these years of alone and forgotten Made my life unendingly rotten I step off the edge, and into the night My eyes close onto a familiar fight My feet no longer have a body to drag As I greet the concrete, I catch a glimpse of that flag