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sleep now, your blood moving in the quiet wind no longer afraid for the others hurrying through the tall grass or the faces laughing on the beach sleep now, you do not hear the dry wind pray or the children play a game called soldiers sleep now, alone in the sleeves of grief listening to clothes falling and your flesh touching god to the chatter and backslapping of christ meeting the heroes of war sleep now, you do not hear the dry wind pray or the children play a game called soldiers sleep now, your words have passed the lights shining from the east and the sound of flak raping graves and emptying the seasons sleep now, sleep now you do not hear the dry wind pray or the children play a game called soldiers From Letras Mania