If All We Seek Is An Escape,

One Day, Perhaps, You Will See For Yourself That Regrets Are As Nothing. The Value Lies In How They Are Answered.

And Over It All, The Butterflies Swarmed, Like A Million Yellow-pettalled Flowers Dancing On Swirling Winds.

All They Get Around Here Is Stories. Stories Don't Make You Bleed. Stories Don't Make You Go Hungry, Don't Give You Sore Feet. When You're Young Smelling Of Pigshit And Convinced There Ain't A Weapon In All The Damn World That's Going To Hurt You, All Stories Do Is Make You Want To Be Part Of Them.

Fear Bespeaks Of Wisdom. Recognition Of Responsibility.

I Mean The Only Thing Us Dead Soldiers Got In Common Is That None Of Us Was Good Enough Or Lucky Enough To Survive The Fight. We're A Host Of Failures.