I wish the war was on,
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I know this sounds strange to you.
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I miss the war-time life,
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anything could happen then:
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around a corner, behind a door.
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I miss the canon fire,
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I miss the air strikes at night.
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Down on the basement floor,
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we held each other tight,
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it rained plaster, it rained glass,
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we held on for our life.
|
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I wish the war was on,
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I know this sounds strange to you.
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My poor crippled con,
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my sad one-legged Jew,
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I see what it's done to you.
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I wish the war was on,
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we really worked together then.
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Do you remember when
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you held the horse, I slit his throat,
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the blood ran, melting the snow?
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When the meat was carved
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the children screamed
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and the women cheered.
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I Miss the War
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| John Vanderslice |
