Desensitization...
Sometimes I can't help but cry when teardrops meet on the streets of goodbye.
Seems like I'm always crying these days. It's like waking up from a nightmare...you watch all these terrible things flash before your eyes and there's nothing you can do. You can't run away or scream and when you finally wake up...the only thing you can do is weep.
That's how war is a lot of the time. I saved a few prisoners, rescued some kids, earned myself some medals, and I got out alive. But none of that means anything because now I'm the only one left. When I think of the day my best friend was killed the memories alone twist the empty space in my heart where he used to remain. I can feel the very fabric of my being shake with sorrow and terror. On the day he died, I died with him...I stopped caring.
I continued on fighting. I worked to no end, did what I was told, killed a lot of other men, and that made a lot of people happy. But I didn't feel a thing; it had ended a long time ago for me. I never cried after he was gone. All through that war not one tear was shed. Especially not for the enemy. The pain had me numb...I was a zombie and as far as I was concerned, the war would last forever. And I would last with it.
When I came home the country seemed unwelcoming to me. No one wanted me there...no one wanted to be around a sad, broken kid. Who wants to deal with war anyway? It had ended and most people would prefer to act like it never happened. But they couldn't forget....because of people like me. The people who had come back were a constant reminder to this city, this whole country, of what had happened. And those who didn't come back were an even bigger reminder.
I was so happy to go to that war...it brought my dreams to me. I was away from my dad, doing something that looked like it was worthwhile. Hell, it's a war, there's gotta be a good reason for it...at least, that's what I used to think. I loved that war up until I killed my first man. I didn't have time to stop and think about it until after we had won the fight...but I didn't like the feeling one bit. For a long time, I felt sorry for our enemy. But I soon learned the hard way that pity and forgiveness are not a part of war.
It was the enemy's fault that I had lost both of my best friends. It was their fault I was trapped out there. Why should I pity them after they had done so much to me? Every time I killed someone after that, it was in the name of those who had died on our own side. When we would pass through villages and towns...I didn't care how young or old anyone was. Or if they were soldiers or not. They were my enemy and they would die at my hands...and if not by me, then by another.
I remained that way for a long time and it wasn't until I finally came home, that I realized how much I had changed. I didn't fit into my own environment anymore; the city rejected me like an invalid password. Everything seemed different. Everything seemed wrong. I wanted so badly to go home...but I couldn't. I didn't have a home anymore.
The biggest thing missing from home was all my loved ones that I had lost. Everyone that had meant anything to me over the course of my life, I lost them to that war. Two of them had come home with me...but they didn't last. One had gotten himself knocked off a bridge and the other had killed himself shortly after. ...I don't like having to say goodbye.
So often I wish that I could've saved them but I know there was nothing I could've done for any of them. We won the war...but we should have lost. The price of my friend's lives wasn't worth winning one hundred wars. It was an uneven trade...loyalty for victory. I miss them so much.
And now I find myself crying for the first time since this horrible nightmare began...I'm waking up, I'm starting to truly feel the full force of all the damage. My tears fall silently onto the concrete below my feet. I look over the edge of the bridge where I stand, down at the water below. The water where one of them rests...the water where all the dog tags have made their home. Tears add themselves to the gravesite of the heart of the war and onto the city streets. It's time to let it go I think...time to say goodbye.
I weep harder and I can feel my heart cracking again. If only by some miracle they could come back to me right now and help me dry my tears...I'm no longer desensitized and it hurts so bad taking on everything that I've hidden inside myself. I thought my days of crying were over when the war started...but somehow, I just can't help it anymore.
So I say goodbye to them one final time and start my long, lonely walk out of town. I don't know where I'm going...I only want to be with my friends again...I only want to go home...but as the open streets stretch out in front me and the rain begins to fall...I realize that that may be too much to ask for...
END
Sometimes I can't help but cry
When teardrops meet on the streets of goodbye.
Hallow hearts break faster
As their souls echo with empty laughter.
Laughter of friends long lost.
Watch as their eyes go cold with the frosts.
I promised that no more tears would be shed
A promise that was broken, it lays bleeding crimson red.
But the ones I promised can forgive me, and the rest of this nation,
Their own tears etched with the pain of our separation.
I wronged you by not keeping that promise,
I cannot deny this.
But sometimes I just can't help but cry
When teardrops meet on the streets of our goodbye.
Sometimes I can't help but cry when teardrops meet on the streets of goodbye.
Seems like I'm always crying these days. It's like waking up from a nightmare...you watch all these terrible things flash before your eyes and there's nothing you can do. You can't run away or scream and when you finally wake up...the only thing you can do is weep.
That's how war is a lot of the time. I saved a few prisoners, rescued some kids, earned myself some medals, and I got out alive. But none of that means anything because now I'm the only one left. When I think of the day my best friend was killed the memories alone twist the empty space in my heart where he used to remain. I can feel the very fabric of my being shake with sorrow and terror. On the day he died, I died with him...I stopped caring.
I continued on fighting. I worked to no end, did what I was told, killed a lot of other men, and that made a lot of people happy. But I didn't feel a thing; it had ended a long time ago for me. I never cried after he was gone. All through that war not one tear was shed. Especially not for the enemy. The pain had me numb...I was a zombie and as far as I was concerned, the war would last forever. And I would last with it.
When I came home the country seemed unwelcoming to me. No one wanted me there...no one wanted to be around a sad, broken kid. Who wants to deal with war anyway? It had ended and most people would prefer to act like it never happened. But they couldn't forget....because of people like me. The people who had come back were a constant reminder to this city, this whole country, of what had happened. And those who didn't come back were an even bigger reminder.
I was so happy to go to that war...it brought my dreams to me. I was away from my dad, doing something that looked like it was worthwhile. Hell, it's a war, there's gotta be a good reason for it...at least, that's what I used to think. I loved that war up until I killed my first man. I didn't have time to stop and think about it until after we had won the fight...but I didn't like the feeling one bit. For a long time, I felt sorry for our enemy. But I soon learned the hard way that pity and forgiveness are not a part of war.
It was the enemy's fault that I had lost both of my best friends. It was their fault I was trapped out there. Why should I pity them after they had done so much to me? Every time I killed someone after that, it was in the name of those who had died on our own side. When we would pass through villages and towns...I didn't care how young or old anyone was. Or if they were soldiers or not. They were my enemy and they would die at my hands...and if not by me, then by another.
I remained that way for a long time and it wasn't until I finally came home, that I realized how much I had changed. I didn't fit into my own environment anymore; the city rejected me like an invalid password. Everything seemed different. Everything seemed wrong. I wanted so badly to go home...but I couldn't. I didn't have a home anymore.
The biggest thing missing from home was all my loved ones that I had lost. Everyone that had meant anything to me over the course of my life, I lost them to that war. Two of them had come home with me...but they didn't last. One had gotten himself knocked off a bridge and the other had killed himself shortly after. ...I don't like having to say goodbye.
So often I wish that I could've saved them but I know there was nothing I could've done for any of them. We won the war...but we should have lost. The price of my friend's lives wasn't worth winning one hundred wars. It was an uneven trade...loyalty for victory. I miss them so much.
And now I find myself crying for the first time since this horrible nightmare began...I'm waking up, I'm starting to truly feel the full force of all the damage. My tears fall silently onto the concrete below my feet. I look over the edge of the bridge where I stand, down at the water below. The water where one of them rests...the water where all the dog tags have made their home. Tears add themselves to the gravesite of the heart of the war and onto the city streets. It's time to let it go I think...time to say goodbye.
I weep harder and I can feel my heart cracking again. If only by some miracle they could come back to me right now and help me dry my tears...I'm no longer desensitized and it hurts so bad taking on everything that I've hidden inside myself. I thought my days of crying were over when the war started...but somehow, I just can't help it anymore.
So I say goodbye to them one final time and start my long, lonely walk out of town. I don't know where I'm going...I only want to be with my friends again...I only want to go home...but as the open streets stretch out in front me and the rain begins to fall...I realize that that may be too much to ask for...
END
Sometimes I can't help but cry
When teardrops meet on the streets of goodbye.
Hallow hearts break faster
As their souls echo with empty laughter.
Laughter of friends long lost.
Watch as their eyes go cold with the frosts.
I promised that no more tears would be shed
A promise that was broken, it lays bleeding crimson red.
But the ones I promised can forgive me, and the rest of this nation,
Their own tears etched with the pain of our separation.
I wronged you by not keeping that promise,
I cannot deny this.
But sometimes I just can't help but cry
When teardrops meet on the streets of our goodbye.