They took him to a deffernt land,
and handed him a gun.
this is their war not ours,
still we have to be here
in the mist of all this dust
and dirt, and in the end we
all might get blowned up.
they took her to a deffernt land,
and handed her a gun,
this is their war not ours,
still we have to be here
in the mist of all the dust
and dirt, and in the end, we
all might get blown up.
then some where up ahead
i see jesus christ crying for
the living, and the dead..
David...Powerful, and inervatingly passionate write.... F.j.R.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Neil Young or John Lennon- as influences? or neither. Course, you are in a class of your own. passionately driven, David. keep on, sjg