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I've just come back from the war. I'm angry and tired and bored. Scarred by the things that I saw -- Still don't feel like I'm home. Don't want to go back, don't want to stay. I'm still waiting for the big parade. Just before dawn -- doesn't feel like last fall... feels like a friend I've lost touch with, who I'd hoped wouldn't call -- blankets and clothes and pictures of wives, the glow of the burning they saw from the sky... When I woke up, all swaddled in white, I wanted my Mother, wanted her to tell me why I was alive. I'd write every night, just before bed. For a while there I stopped. Did you think I was dead? The truth of it is, I was afraid. Scared to come back, I wanted to stay. I'm still waiting for the big parade. From Letras Mania