The Traitor’s Song
Sing the song of the traitor,
the man in the middle.
He wants to belong.
His eyes beg the question;
the lie on the headstones:
One right, one wrong.
A life on the side.
A death in the family.
A curse on the grave of the brave.
A fly in the ointment
for the wounds of the hero.
The soul that can never be saved.
A wreath of flowers floats sadly downstream,
discarded, disowned by us all.
And as the light fades, the announcement is made:
the traitor awaits in the hall.
The door shuts behind us. A form in the shadows –
familiar yet so hard to place.
Then the sharp recognition. Too hard to swallow –
Victory tastes just like Disgrace.
Sing the song of the traitor,
the man in the middle.
He wants to belong.
His eyes beg the question;
the lie on the headstones:
One right, one wrong.
