Over the hill, ‘neath the old oak tree
Drowns a forgotten fable in a tar black sea
Over the hill lies a valley of black
Where many now venture, but few once came back

A clatter of swords and a losing life
Wails of misery, grief, and strife
Some will fall and some will rise
Some will go back to their daily lives
Dawn a new day or fall a new night
Heroes will be felled doing what’s right

A young boy honored, no more than sixteen
Laid to to rest in a patch of peaceful green
A young girl gunned down as she ran with supplies
There is only black and white in war’s eyes
Statues are built, memorials wrought
Remember the day that these heroes fought

But time will pass and bring with it
The kiss of memory’s losing lips
Over the hill, ‘neath the old oak tree
Horror battles serenity
Innovation pursues, there are rights to be bought
‘Neath the tree is planted a parking lot