Sleepy trees on the battlefield,
Soldiers rest in their cots.
The drum line's roll is dreary
And the armories are only in theory
When you're fighting for the hypothetical.
I was arranging numbers in reverse-alphabetical;
It just didn't add up when I gathered all the sense.
I never learned how to count down too well,
Cut short like childhood scars
That made salty eyes open to an ocean's salty swell.