You can see the lights
Over the rolling hills,
Still sitting in the same place,
But making their red and blue rounds;
Striking the night with their fear,
Bouncing off the clouds,
But yielding to the moon.
Here on this hill
Where I sit,
Watching the lights flicker and flame,
I hear the sirens of more coming;
The uncertainty of the danger
Lurking in the near distance.
I know there is pain behind those lights,
And screams between the sirens,
Harbingers of death–