Human warrens Filled with immaculate limbs, Decorated in valour and glory Buried as a shadow in the valley of death. God save the King. Curved photos of life noir Float away from clasped fingers Down a river of the floating fallen. Screams have no accents But your screams will become my 2 minutes of silence, Your names will be carved in to concrete, On high walls in faded guild Unnoticed by the rich man eating his bagel, And the boys who sit on your wall cursing life, Seeing who can spit the furthest. God save the King. I think of King George in his finery, Then of you dressed in khaki and fear. I think of your King laughing haughtily, Then you writing of love in your grave, Returning home before your letter On fine milled paper rattling her letterbox. God save the King