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Brown Horse Prancing

Brown leaves dancing,
Brown horse prancing,
To the tune of the brown warm wind
That wends it way
Down the brown hill
To the dead brown city of yesteryear.
Where brown men talked
And brown women sang
And brown children ran in the streets.
Until silver cloud rent brown sky.
Death came swiftly to this warm brown world.
Now brown leaves dance
Where brown women sang,
And the brown horse prances
Where brown children ran,
And the brown wind wanders
Where men once talked,
And all they find is a cold brown dust.

The bloody uselessness of war

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