- 759
- Posts
- 19
- Years
- Age 32
- where it's always sunny when I feel it should be d
- Seen May 29, 2009
Sunday morning, the sun shines through
your bedroom window, and all that's true.
Your smile fades, as your eyes catch a glance
at what might be, your only chance
to ever survive, to ever get out
of this moment of terror, and all it's about.
Whatever happens now, you could be the hero
and not be left out, or feel like a zero.
The fires are blazing, and burning, and hot,
protect your friends, soilders being shot.
Boys they were, looking for love,
Men they are now, praying to above
Nurses, normal people, you'd say
waiting for the hurt, the wounded, the ones that won't live to see another day.
Sort them by people who'll make it!
And please don't fake it
for some will pass, and some will pass by,
please don't let the ones who won't pass, die!
It's Monday now, fires still going,
battleships still sinking, and oil still flowing
in the waters of death, the tombs of the dying
praying for what isn't coming, the people prying,
and trying to get to them, but waters fill the rooms fast
and everything goes black, they see in a quick moment their past.
Their days are done, they quickly see
pilots fighting, and wars over seas.
But they don't see from their point of love,
instead, they see it from above,
where everything is clear, and not a war to fight,
they see their children growing up, and growing so tight,
to the ones they love, the ones that see them fight it:
the wars over seas, and the trouble on the land,
All of the nurses, seeing it happen from where they stand.
What I've said here and more, is just a glance at something that is larger,
What I've said here and more, is just a glance, at Pearl Harbor.
uhh... do you guys like it??? Yes, it is a poem about Pearl Harbor..AND I'M GETTING IT PUBLISHED!!!!!!!!!!!and copyrighted...
your bedroom window, and all that's true.
Your smile fades, as your eyes catch a glance
at what might be, your only chance
to ever survive, to ever get out
of this moment of terror, and all it's about.
Whatever happens now, you could be the hero
and not be left out, or feel like a zero.
The fires are blazing, and burning, and hot,
protect your friends, soilders being shot.
Boys they were, looking for love,
Men they are now, praying to above
Nurses, normal people, you'd say
waiting for the hurt, the wounded, the ones that won't live to see another day.
Sort them by people who'll make it!
And please don't fake it
for some will pass, and some will pass by,
please don't let the ones who won't pass, die!
It's Monday now, fires still going,
battleships still sinking, and oil still flowing
in the waters of death, the tombs of the dying
praying for what isn't coming, the people prying,
and trying to get to them, but waters fill the rooms fast
and everything goes black, they see in a quick moment their past.
Their days are done, they quickly see
pilots fighting, and wars over seas.
But they don't see from their point of love,
instead, they see it from above,
where everything is clear, and not a war to fight,
they see their children growing up, and growing so tight,
to the ones they love, the ones that see them fight it:
the wars over seas, and the trouble on the land,
All of the nurses, seeing it happen from where they stand.
What I've said here and more, is just a glance at something that is larger,
What I've said here and more, is just a glance, at Pearl Harbor.
uhh... do you guys like it??? Yes, it is a poem about Pearl Harbor..AND I'M GETTING IT PUBLISHED!!!!!!!!!!!and copyrighted...