Down where the peach orchards bask in the sunlight, as mirthful toddlers in a mothers love,

Down in the bustling city of Atlanta,
in sunny, happy Georgia,

Down in the shade of an old willow,
her tendrils brushing me in a lovers touch, whispering untold secrets to me in the rustling of leaves and the dance of wind,

I lie, and wait.

I wait for my days of calm peace to end.

I wait for the peach trees to fall in a colourful cascade of sparks and fire, trial and tribulation.

As the General rides through, in his run of destiny, like a horseman of the apocalypse, death, and decay.

In all of this. here I lie.

While the people of the city of the south, in the cursed year of 1864, lie screaming,

Here I lie,

The dappled sunlight flickering through the trees, fading in my vision,

Here I lie.

A proud soldier in the army of President Douglas, a warrior, or, a warrior in all elses eyes.

From my, now flickering, view, I am still a little boy.

A boy who ran from spiders, and snakes, and all who crawl and creep in the dust of mankinds ascension.

And amid all this beauty, and all this terror, for once, I don't pretend to be the stone-faced,clean-cut soldier people see.

I become a little boy, a boy who can do nothing but lie, and wait for his escape to come, so,

Here I lie.