Livadies First Light, Last Rites

Scrap iron walls
Catch the gleam
Woke up from a nightmare
Into a bad dream
Taste of ash on my tongue
The sky is bruised
And young

First light
Last rite
So quiet
Count the living
Count the dead
One more
Another sunrise painted red

Faces in the smoke
Hard and thin
Don't ask 'em where they're going
I know where they've been
They say you get used to the sound
Of putting your own
In the ground