Indica

And on tides we can't be untouched by

Of troubles stay when lids lay over eyes

The frames and faces I've mistaken

For kids whose lives I may have taken

And if so, do I haunt their parents' dreams?

And in so, am I summarized by sounds of young lung screams?

Their young one's screams

And of war bonds and blood-stained hands

Combat neurosis shys from indica strands

And it breaks my mother's heart to know I came back broken

With the thought of my arms spilt open

And if so, would I bring their parents peace?

And if so, could I give back the sounds of their children's screams?

Let go of what I've seen

And if so, do I haunt their parents' dreams?

And in so, am I summarized by sounds of young lung screams?

Their young one's screams