"Printed Name"

In a patch of wilted flowers
In a meadow God forgot
There lies and unknown soldier
Whose battle was never fought
And the knowledge his mind keeps
Must ever more be sought
For his freedom

Wooden boards and rusted nails
Are his most sacred cask
Silted dirt and strong tree roots
Dissuade him from his task
While wilted flowers and yellow straw
Disguise him like a mask
From his freedom

Nothing more than a printed name
On an old, cracked, grey headstone
To him war was just a game
Now he lies all alone
Letters carved by hasty hands
Are all he has to show
What is there above the sands
He can now never know

SOLO

A beautiful girl laughed with him
Wonderful was his life
And when he would return
He would take her for his wife
But the pain was just too great
So he ended it with his knife
No more freedom

Nothing more than a printed name
On an old, cracked, grey headstone
To him war was just a game
Now he lies all alone
Letters carved by hasty hands
Are all he has to show
And so the secret above the sands
He can now never know

SOLO

Rustic bones and a hero's spirit
Are all that remain now
Memories dancing wildly around
Then take their final bow
Slowly leaving, heartlessly
Given up their tender vow
Journeying on endlessly
To the fortress in the clouds

Nothing more than a printed name
On an old, cracked, grey headstone
To him war was just a game
Now he lies all alone
Letters carved by hasty hands
Are all he has to show
What is there above the sands
He can now never know

 

 

 

 

 

 

Written by
David Patrick Ford

Performed by
GROUP THERAPY