[sketchyjoe]

A STANDING TOAST TO BALLS AND BALLADRY

There are always heroes, no matter the age
They are born on a wave of misery
Brought forth by a carriage of their own two feet
Crafted and cast whenever god blinks
They burst out like a traitorous shot
End toasted in all our slyest slurred drinks
Remembered by amnesia, mossy stone and the worms
Who crawl in redefining on their own hungry terms

With soon-empty glasses in our raised hand
We'll reminisce about every famous last stand
And we'll wake from weird dreams with sticky mouths of sand
Hold our heads, say "I'm never drinking again"
But it's a lie, it's a lie, we'll stay 'til we have to die
With petrol-soaked rags and swords gone awry
Talk and plan anticipating the adrenaline high
From being part of the revolution when

We'll take a match to the blue touch paper
Of avenging warfare and ravaged anger
We'll storm the stale offices of oppression
Where breathing ruins lie trapped by a soulless chore
Plant explosives and run screaming with laughter
Down the staircase with the rescued at the fore
Through glass, breaking walls and executive toys
Riding stolen chairs and intoxicating joy

With soon-empty glasses in our raised hand
We'll reminisce about every famous last stand
And we'll wake from weird dreams with sticky mouths of sand
Hold our heads, say "I'm never drinking again"
But it's a lie, it's a lie, we'll stay 'til we have to die
With repainted flags and apocalypse nigh
Talk and plan anticipating the warm sigh
From being part of the revolution when

We'll stand as one and block the road
And look up with transfixed wide-eyed wonder
At the beauty of smoldering arcs of destruction
Of what used to be our lives, used to be our cell
And say "How could I have lived without seeing this?"
The burning and flowing of a blown-out hell
Listen to silence which through the dust has risen
And dance in the snow of what used to be our prisons

With soon-empty glasses in our raised hand
We'll reminisce about every famous last stand
And we'll wake from weird dreams with sticky mouths of sand
Hold our heads, say "I'm never drinking again"
But it's a lie, it's a lie, we'll stay 'til we have to die
With new symbols and old reasons why
Talk and plan anticipating the open sky
From being part of the revolution when

We'll say "I saw war" and "I saw peace"
"And there wasn't really much difference to me
Except in one the boredom was more intense
And the excitement was cheaper in a way"
We'll shake the streets until the cracks fall out
And stomp them all back into the clay
Play with abandon childlike in the debris
Shift and shout with anarchic euphoria free

With soon-empty glasses in our raised hand
We'll reminisce about every famous last stand
And we'll wake from weird dreams with sticky mouths of sand
Hold our heads, say "I'm never drinking again"
But it's a lie, it's a lie, we'll stay 'til we have to die
With sketched out guitars and footsteps to defy
Talk and plan anticipating the badge of blacked eye
From being part of a revolution's gambling den

With now empty glasses broken on the floor
We'll eulogise anecdotes of every infamous lost war
And we'll wake from weird dreams on a beachy distant shore
Wipe our wounds, say "I'm fighting again never"
But it's a joke, it's a joke, we'll stay 'til our songs are smoke
Condensing with the steam, scratched into oak
Burnt in a home-made drum to warm the hands of folk
Written in the well, printed in endeavour

Singing, fighting, running drunk in dark woods of now whatever
Laughing, brawling, stumbling drunk in dark woods of then forever