Ghosts of Men
never to be, we are just a memory, a legend, lives cut short
On still nights
can you hear our voices calling?
The shots ringing out across the gullies
over the dry hills with the gum trees, bark peeling
Do those that
carry our blood still mourn us?
Or have our deeds become that by which we are
So that our thoughts and dreams are only a pale shade
We were but boys
Boys who took hostages, but arranged
flowers for mass
Who fate turned against and condemned
We died as men but
And as the wind blows stirring the dust
memories of blood and of fire
Can you hear us calling to you?
the long years
Remember, remember us…