Friendly Fire
7/8/2003
by Lorne Clarke copyright 2003

When our fearless leader taunts the world with ill-considered words like "Bring it on!"
-- perhaps it would be wise for the rest of us to ponder the price that we all pay for violence.  LC

We welcome your comments.

I saw old Carl again
He was in the graveyard when
I was passing on my way to town
He was sitting on the wall
He was with that old grey dog
The one he picked up at the pound

Chorus:
The answers don't come easy
When you lose a kid
But there's nothing anyone can say
   When you lose one the way that Carl did

We all recall when Carl's wife died
How he just dried up inside
How his little son helped him through the storm
How slowly, slowly, Carl came back
How he was so proud when that boy ran track
Prouder still when he put on the uniform

Chorus

But in a God-forsaken place
Nearly half a world away
Carl's son fell to friendly fire
Carl just sifts the ashes now
An old grey man in an old grey house
A brittle, wasted token of the liars

We claim we fight for freedom
We say we know what freedom means
Picnics, flags and big parades..
And graveyards...
Full of dead dreams
 

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