Fallow

[Foxtrot]

We're all masked monsters
masquerading, no doubt to brittle trumpets
or in tune with the canons roaring in our heads
and I pray to god your world starts spinning

The smell of gunpowder stung the corners of my mind
as my eyes scoured the transcending trenches
her canteen is filled with echoes of morphine
and mine was brimmed with wine

The squall was wretched and unforgiving
blowing ashes and snow into my tired eyes
a constant reminded of what I have burned
and what I would become

Our names were frostbitten through winter
along with our fingers, combing through cold
It's safe to assume we were tired of digging
for new beginnings, in the snow

I wandered, I reckon you were frustrated
with my fumbling fingers and weak, stubborn knees
and right now my heart is anchored to my ankles
--there's crescendos in my stomach, crashing me to sleep

The morning came with thunder
I awoke less of a man than I'd like to believe
my eyes were glazed over, and I was much more tolerant
of the smell of gunpowder in these streets