A lonely wind
sifting through the grass...
How can life be so simple?
When the sounds of bullets
whizzes past,
and the strength is regrettably ample.

The lonely wind
is ever so clear.
Even when life is not.
Just stop thinking, and then you'll hear;
that mercy will never be sought.

Bend and pray,
will it ease the pain?
Or will it make a fresh slice?
Beating the grave, alone in the rain;
hoping and rolling the dice.

The lonely wind
is simple indeed
even when you are mangled.
But then you'll drop dead
buried in greed,
and by your own blood
are strangled.