FLANDERS — THE WAR CAME HOME WITH ME

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V6-WILD

[Intro — distant military snare, solitary cello; exhausted female whisper]
The guns have stopped.
Why am I still listening?

[Verse 1 — intimate female contralto; restrained, almost conversational]
They hung the flags above the square;
The church bells shook the street.
I watched a boy salute his father
And could not lift my feet.
At supper, someone dropped a spoon.
I reached for what was gone.
They filled the silence up with kindness.
I left the uniform on.

[Pre-Chorus — low strings gathering; distant snare continues]
No orders left to answer.
No sentry at the door.
I still wake counting voices
And come up short once more.

[Chorus — slow, devastating female belt; immense guitars and mournful orchestra]
They told me that the war was over—
But it never ended me.
I carried Flanders through the doorway;
Now it sleeps where I should sleep.
The war came home with me.
It settled underneath my skin.
And every time the world goes quiet,
I hear the guns begin.

[Verse 2 — weary female lead; cello against a slow, heavy pulse]
I learned the names of foreign streets
And slept beneath a different sky.
I bought the finest wine they had
And watched the evening pass me by.
A woman laid her hand on mine;
I wanted so to want her there.
I let her leave before the morning
And hated that I didn’t care.

[Pre-Chorus — voice becoming more exposed]
I kept on chasing something stronger,
Something that could reach me still.
Every pleasure lost its meaning.
Every quiet room would fill.

[Chorus — powerful female lead; restrained female choir beneath]
They told me that the war was over—
But it never ended me.
I carried Flanders through the doorway;
Now it sleeps where I should sleep.
The war came home with me.
It settled underneath my skin.
And every time the world goes quiet,
I hear the guns begin.

[Bridge — drums disappear; bare cello and close female voice]
I’d trade the ribbon on my chest
For one unguarded day—
To hear a door close down the hall
And let it be a door again.

They say the years will make it distant.
They say the living must move on.
But every night I hear them calling,
And every morning they are gone.

[Instrumental Lament — brief cello melody answered by slow, weeping guitar; snare recedes]

[Final Verse — India, 1921; quiet female contralto, faint unfamiliar music-box motif]
India. Nineteen twenty-one.
A little box of black and gold.
They spoke of pleasures past all measure,
Of things no mortal heart could hold.
Its perfect edges caught the lamplight.
I set my glass beside the bed.
And felt beneath the old familiar silence
A hunger I had thought was dead.

[Final Refrain — female voice rising; orchestra swells without resolution]
They told me that the war was over—
But it never ended me.
Now something waits beneath my fingers,
Promising what I cannot see.

[Outro — cello falls silent; close female whisper]
Such a small thing.
To promise so much.

[One suspended music-box note. Silence.]

2935/7500

[Intro — distant military snare, solitary cello; exhausted female whisper] The guns have stopped. Why am I still listening? [Verse 1 — intimate female contralto; restrained, almost conversational] They hung the flags above the square; The church bells shook the street. I watched a boy salute his father And could not lift my feet. At supper, someone dropped a spoon. I reached for what was gone. They filled the silence up with kindness. I left the uniform on. [Pre-Chorus — low strings gathering; distant snare continues] No orders left to answer. No sentry at the door. I still wake counting voices And come up short once more. [Chorus — slow, devastating female belt; immense guitars and mournful orchestra] They told me that the war was over— But it never ended me. I carried Flanders through the doorway; Now it sleeps where I should sleep. The war came home with me. It settled underneath my skin. And every time the world goes quiet, I hear the guns begin. [Verse 2 — weary female lead; cello against a slow, heavy pulse] I learned the names of foreign streets And slept beneath a different sky. I bought the finest wine they had And watched the evening pass me by. A woman laid her hand on mine; I wanted so to want her there. I let her leave before the morning And hated that I didn’t care. [Pre-Chorus — voice becoming more exposed] I kept on chasing something stronger, Something that could reach me still. Every pleasure lost its meaning. Every quiet room would fill. [Chorus — powerful female lead; restrained female choir beneath] They told me that the war was over— But it never ended me. I carried Flanders through the doorway; Now it sleeps where I should sleep. The war came home with me. It settled underneath my skin. And every time the world goes quiet, I hear the guns begin. [Bridge — drums disappear; bare cello and close female voice] I’d trade the ribbon on my chest For one unguarded day— To hear a door close down the hall And let it be a door again. They say the years will make it distant. They say the living must move on. But every night I hear them calling, And every morning they are gone. [Instrumental Lament — brief cello melody answered by slow, weeping guitar; snare recedes] [Final Verse — India, 1921; quiet female contralto, faint unfamiliar music-box motif] India. Nineteen twenty-one. A little box of black and gold. They spoke of pleasures past all measure, Of things no mortal heart could hold. Its perfect edges caught the lamplight. I set my glass beside the bed. And felt beneath the old familiar silence A hunger I had thought was dead. [Final Refrain — female voice rising; orchestra swells without resolution] They told me that the war was over— But it never ended me. Now something waits beneath my fingers, Promising what I cannot see. [Outro — cello falls silent; close female whisper] Such a small thing. To promise so much. [One suspended music-box note. Silence.]

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