S.G. Goodman - Dead soldiers

He poured gasoline on the flowers
Goodnight to the stars with the light on
Tin cans kept the hours

Looks like a man chopping wood for his funeral pyre
And the man in the flame looks a lot like you
Don′t lie to me
About your war
Ain't I the one gathering all the dead soldiers from your floor?
Slurred calls after midnight
Met by a voice of one who loves you
Ask them what it sounds like
Sounds like a man chopping wood for his funeral pyre
And the man in the flame looks a lot like you
Don′t lie to me
About your war
Ain't I the one gathering all the dead soldiers from your floor?
Ain't I the one gathering all the dead soldiers from your floor?
And if the dirt soaks up the gasoline
New flowers will grow there in the Spring Oh
But you friend, become memory of mine
Of mine
Of mine
Of mine
Ain′t I the one gathering all the dead soldiers from your floor?
Ain′t I the one gathering all the dead soldiers from your floor?