Memories of Sand

I once was a soldier
a killer of men
with a gun in my hand
and a prayer on my breath

I was Gods tool of torture
his puppet of pain
now I carry the weight
of my glorious shame


When the light starts to fade
and the cruel shadows creep
I see blood in my eyes
welling too thick to weep

I can't sleep
I can't eat
I don't know my own mind

Every life that I took
rots away my insides


So I sit in this chair
with a bottle unmarked
but I can't drown the souls
that scream out in my glass

On his word I slew babies
as mothers held tight
I can't hide from their faces
that haunt me at night.


I would ask for forgiveness
if I thought he cared

say a prayer to the man
who plays poker upstairs

But I can't be redeemed
by the black gamblers hand
I've no faith in his name
or belief in his plans

So I guess that I'm done for
I guess that I'm dammed
and I'll die in this place 

with the memory of sand

Copyright © Lee Cassanell 2008