Another head hangs lowly,
Child is slowly taken.
And the violence caused such silence,
Who are we mistaken?

It was a sudden change, from the world of yesterday. Once his world had been lively, and happy. But now it was slow and sombre- a march of war, and the silent cry of death, instead of the faerie dance of before.

But you see, it's not me; it's not my family.
In your head, in your head they are fighting,
With their tanks and their bombs,
And their bombs and their guns.
In your head, in your head, they are crying...

This wasn't his war- this was their war. This was a war fought over ideals that had long ago been outdated and forgotten. This was a war of the obsolete, versus the useful. Or, that's what the newspapers said. If the others were the obsolete, then why were they the side winning?

In your head, in your head,
Zombie, zombie, zombie,
Hey, hey, hey. What's in your head,
In your head,
Zombie, zombie, zombie?
Hey, hey, hey, hey, oh, dou, dou, dou, dou, dou...

He kept his head down, bad enough that he was out here. Bad enough that he was out here, when he knew he was targeted. A death contract from the other side, because what he believed. He just didn't get this war- the proud were bowing down to what was dirty, bowing down to what the believed beneath them. Because it had promised them power, the power they couldn't have.

Another mother's breaking,
Heart is taking over.
When the violence causes silence,
We must be mistaken.

It wasn't himself that he was worried for; it was the rest of them. He watched each day as his mother bowed her head, as she cried into the kippers for breakfast, and listened as she cried at night, waiting for his father to come home.

He watched as his father's skin turned from white with jolly cheeks, to grey, a grey almost the pallor of death, as he described the rising panic of the world to his sobbing wife.

He watched as his brothers, once merry with identical eyes sparkling with mischief, put on a façade to cheer their mother, and to distract their sister. But they could never make it seem real.

He watched, as his brother didn't come to apologize, even when this day might be the last for any one of them.

He watched as his other brothers lived each day, each struggling to come to terms with something they could barely remember and that should rightfully be over with forever.

He watched as his sister struggled with something that he could only imagine plagued her dreams, because she knew best of all what was in the monster's heart.

He watched as the woman he loved lived each of what might be her final day, and realized that at the end of each day he had still never told her how he felt.

He watched as his best friend died of the pain only he could feel, and the reasons he could only see in his mind.

And finally, he watched as all he could do was watched. He watched how it wasn't fair. And he watched as the world died.

It's the same old theme since nineteen-sixteen.
In your head, in your head they're still fighting,
With their tanks and their bombs,
And their bombs and their guns.
In your head, in your head, they are dying...

It should have been over. The monster should be sent to the underworld where he belonged, and had never been. And somewhere, although no one had ever told him as much, he knew that he would be part of it, and he knew, that no one would like it- especially not his mother.

In your head, in your head,
Zombie, zombie, zombie,
Hey, hey, hey. What's in your head,
In your head,
Zombie, zombie, zombie?
Hey, hey, hey, hey, oh, oh, oh,
Oh, oh, oh, oh, hey, oh, ya, ya-a...

If it wasn't his problem, why couldn't he stop thinking of it?