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| "Flying Tiger" 18x24 Pencil on Paper by TL Cope. Click for larger image |
Cold morning air, motors spit fire through the velvet smoke, propellers turn
Painted warrior, a chariot awaits your rise, she's been up for hours now
Wood splintered, canvas torn roundel, you silohette against the sun
As bullet rips the flesh, blood flows in fire and oil stains the glass
Black smoke, rich and burnt, lifeless, dances to the ground
Its dark spiral pirouettes in the winds, anguish cries carry then fade
Scented letters tied in ribbon under silken scarved tattered skies
It was simple then, it did not end with this life, this war,
Painted warrior, a chariot awaits your rise, she's been up for hours now
Wood splintered, canvas torn roundel, you silohette against the sun
As bullet rips the flesh, blood flows in fire and oil stains the glass
Black smoke, rich and burnt, lifeless, dances to the ground
Its dark spiral pirouettes in the winds, anguish cries carry then fade
Scented letters tied in ribbon under silken scarved tattered skies
It was simple then, it did not end with this life, this war,
Today, I am not so sure.
