Limey on down, the flotilla
Drink me all of this beer
Thinking about doing something
Worth of stories to hear
Too bad I'd rather escape commotion
Resting in my chair
All that and then some
A person gave up
So I could be here
Now I can dwell in that mud
And not have to live in fear
Words take turns into blood
Thereof the Croix De Guerre
Happy sorrow bury tomorrow
Sulk in my bloody red cave
Moonlit flowers dance for hours
Then wilt away by day
My own folly was believing
That they'd forever stay
For now I'm sobbing over dead poppies
And their flowery grave
Now I can dwell in that mud
And not have to live in fear
Words take turns into blood
Thereof the Croix De Guerre