Trench Slang

It's too late for me
Keep running
I remember it all
I had something to make me quake
It's a tribute in blood
For when the horror comes
And the boredom breaks

It's too late to stop the shrieking
When the seething dead
Unrelentingly shake us awake
And we relive it all
But know it never occurred in the first place

Show me your fingers and tell me you haven't been digging to get away
Show me your feet and then tell me you haven't been running

Now it's too late for you
I'm hunting
They say silence is golden
But it's never bought you a thing
And a desperate man's asylum
Becomes his promise ring

And there will be no judgement
For futile flight
I've made mistakes on both sides of this thing
And while war is war
I never loved the war
I only loved its sting

Show me your fingers and tell me you haven't been digging to get away
Show me your feet and then tell me you haven't been running

Tell me with a straight face

Don't tell me
It's confessing time