don't be sad about the horrors of war

i saw her in a corner of my neighborhood bar

sitting on a lonesome chair

with a look both near and far

and her eyes were shooting stars

more upsetting than a shopping mall

full of war damaged vintage Russian cars

and the banana merchants who quietly slipped away

without a word when they were asked to pay

for all the hearts they ever sold without an honest smile,

or the hanging judge they bought before the latest murder trial,

and the several dirty rugs they tossed out on the floor

which they assured would entirely stop the coming holocaust world war

but a savage looking one with ashes in his grey beard

said he knew what it was his ancestors feared

while from around the hidden corner i mechanically peered

i saw her in a corner of my neighborhood bar

dreaming of a future with the sweet taste of desire

like a tune was caressing her rose-colored lips

under the shadow of an impending apocalypse

i looked at her for a long, long time

waiting for my moment to strike

waiting for the bell to chime

but everything was counted and nothing else i saw was mine:

the tracks around her neck and the sad hair on her head

gave me nervous sweats and filled me with dread

so with one leg ready i turned to run out

but i juggled with indecision when i finally heard her shout

"don't be sad about the horrors of war;

beyond this earth everything that happens has happened before!"

and in a far distance i heard gentle voices and saw a growing void

reminding me of what to harvest and what to avoid:

an underground and free spaces overhead,

making room at the local bar for all the phantoms who are acting dead:

but through their bony mouths they were sipping drinks with ice cubes in their teeth

while softly asking "what is my belief?"

but i didn't have to answer much and much to my relief,

i grabbed that girl and tip toed out the back door like a disappearing thief.