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Grey ice, white snow
cover the crackled earth,
a patchwork of town is caught
in the loop of the road.
Clouds are drifting above,
they're screening heavenly light,
yellow smoke is hanging over
two thousand year old town
all this time placed under the star named Sun.
And war is going on
for no particular cause,
war is youngsters' job,
it stops them from getting old.
Red, red blood
turns brown in just an hour,
in two it's grass and flowers,
in three it's again alive
and warmed with rays of the star named Sun.
And we know it's always been so
that fortune smiles on one
who follows other guidelines
and dies prematurely young.
He's beyond 'yes' or 'no',
he cares not of names or ranks,
and he reaches the heights of sky
as a matter of fact,
and he falls burned by the star named Sun.