I open the drawer of my filing cabinet. Ten hot-air balloons float out. Their bright colors and bold patterns contrast starkly against the demure brown décor of the office, which steps aside to make room for their presence. They race up, up, to the ceiling, where they hover around the light bulb like moths, flitting through the wisps of cotton-ball clouds and lost dreams, jostling to get just a little bit closer to the warmth.
I find the folder I was searching for and continue working. The day is short, and I have much to do.
A soldier lies on sodden ground
He is bleeding, he is dying
For his country.
A woman sits, shrouded in black
She is mourning, she is crying
For her only son.
The authoritys greed
On blood it feeds
While all around it dead soldiers are lying.
Went down fighting
For their freedom.
A soldier lies on sodden ground
He is bleeding, he is dying
For his country.
A woman sits, shrouded in black
She is mourning, she is crying
For her only son.
The authoritys greed
On blood it feeds
While all around it dead soldiers are lying.
Went down fighting
For their freedom.
I open the drawer of my filing cabinet. Ten hot-air balloons float out. Their bright colors and bold patterns contrast starkly against the demure brown décor of the office, which steps aside to make room for their presence. They race up, up, to the ceiling, where they hover around the light bulb like moths, flitting through the wisps of cotton-ball clouds and lost dreams, jostling to get just a little bit closer to the warmth.
I find the folder I was searching for and continue working. The day is short, and I have much to do.