"It's just a way of life!"
said the man with the gun.
"You win it or you lose it
and when all is said and done..."

But the odds and the favour
can be tipped from over here
by a warm winning smile
from a child with no fear.

They say that respect
is a game hard won
but they can't see the smile
down the barrel of the gun.

The feather on the trigger
tipping fate on its edge,
no begging or beseeching
can reverse a given pledge.

The days turn to night
and the winter beckons,
the clock upon the wall
ticking out the short seconds
of a life hard won,
on a tall family tree.
Hear the click of the pin
as the feather flies free!

We live our short lives
along the barrel of a gun, 
never knowing all the beauty
thats beneath the rising sun.

At the moment of truth
we're still missing a piece;
from the puzzle of life,
denying desperate peace.

And the bullets let fly
dealing death all around,
a hail of thundering steel
as they tear into the ground.

And the steel from the sky
becomes the sand on your face.

The tears on your cheeks
washing the windows of fate.


Written by Darren Scanlon, January 2014.
Revised 9th May 2015.
©2015 Darren Scanlon. All rights reserved.

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