Post-War America

I lost part of myself
In midnight trenches
With barbed-wire and shots fired
Blood-spilt with no end in sight
The sun sunk so deep
That I thought I may never see it rise again

My broken body was found
By a nurse with a foreign accent
And it took only one touch
Of her slender hand upon my cheek
To bring me back to life
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1897

Through alleyways and boneyards
The wind whispers your name
I have traveled over tumultuous oceans
In an oak box full of soil
Time has played servant to this very moment
The blood that flows through those veins
Has been bled out once before
Such a long, long time ago

Silhouette stalks the twisting hallways of her house
Shadow-clawed fingers search for a pulse
Thy heart doth beat
The war-drum of a forgotten battle
Centuries lost in the void of despair
This desiccated corpse
Is once more sanguinated
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