And on tides we can't be untouched by Of troubles stay when lids lay over eyes The frames and faces I've mistaken for kids whose lives I may have taken And if so, do I haunt their parents dreams? And in so, am I summarized by sounds of young lung screams? Their young one's screams And of war bonds and blood stained hands Combat neurosis shys from indica strands And it breaks my mother's heart to know I came back broken With the thought of my arms spilt open And if so, would bring their parent's peace? And if so, could I give back the sounds of their children's screams? Let go of what I've seen