Our own private batterfield
Don’t just stand here
In the middle of the batterfield
It’s easy being a solder that cares only for his own shield
Broken bones don’t bother you
Tomorrow is just a new day for another randevouz
Walking with your head up while you keep playing an imaginary role
But when you huddle in the bed alone, it’s clear, you lost it all
Don’t just stand here
In the middle of the desert
Your sadness caused mine, so let them flirt
Squeeze a drop of your water, make it nice
To wash these salty eyes
Or those tired arms
That used to hold you once
