The path was littered with little flags and the mind was lost in the voices I could hear them brag best at cards and ladies and the drink it knew no end but here lay all those old friends. From a far a way place in the shadows of time these were the voices of men cut down in their prime. I walk and think of the times we spent chancing dreams that were never spent. Bobby, John and me we were the pride of our family standing strong in coats of honor and faith we believed in you. Pulled a pint from my pocket and I drank a toast to the boys strong and brave and to all the ghosts lying thirsty in their graves no one will ever say that we of the neighborhood ever walked away from fight flag draped and placed in the ground hear the sound of taps being played and angry voices stayed long after death I believe it was a test I live today but in the pathway to the soul a bit of guilt with me goes I am a live I did not die I cannot cry I just drink now on some days then I pray for Bobby whose sister I still love and for John who I know is looking down from above and walk away from the others whose voices I still hear proud and brave everyone a star for every lost son watch them flicker in the field among the monuments to man Markers in the son so tall they stand