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Hit



Hit one
It makes no difference
But for the shadow that gets darker
And the army killed my friend; he had a grenade in his wallet

Hit two
It’s just a déjà vu feeling
But for the shadow to give a trace
And we plunge deeper into black emptiness, redefining absurdity

This is based on a true story
This is not the truth but based on truth
Non-linear, altering characters, fleeting roles
It’s so bad, yet, not unsurprisingly

For it’s always the new truth
The mango tree cried for the rainy season
The mountains echo with lamentation
The valley is flooded with grunge and grime

Hit three
The gods wail in foreign languages
What’s in it for us when even the lords are defeated
We can only long for hope in the next strike
Hit us, hit me, hit him, hit her, hit them

Hit us, hit me, hit him, hit her, hit them
In the night of the strike there was a hope in the dawn
All along we have only got one day closer to death
Hit us, hit me, hit him, hit her, hit them
Hit us, hit me, hit him, hit her, hit them
 

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