Bitter branches

spreading out.

There's none more bitter

than the wood.

Into the wide world,

it grows,

twisting under

soldier's feet,

standing in line

and the damp earth underneath.

Holding up their rifles

high,

holding their young wives

who wave goodbye.

Hold up the clear glass

to look and see

soldiers standing

and the roots twist underneath.

Their young wives with white hands

wave goodbye.

Their arms as bitter branches

spreading into the world.

Wave goodbye,

Wave goodbye...