now’s the time of year where the leaves
are brought down to their knees.
we look up to ashen skies
and absorb cold earth with our bare feet.
and we didn’t know what would happen
if we didn’t speak.
and the bombs that they created
got rid of the green.
now we’re stuck living in a dream
of our past lives because our dead wives
aren’t here to keep us clean.
all we have are our distant memories.
all we have are our memories, our memories.