The gentleman speaks of treaties and trade His collar is clean, his argument's made He quotes from The Times while the countryside rolls Says "necessary measures" and "ultimate goals" I nod when expected, my hands won't stay still There's mud under my nails I can't seem to kill [Chorus: Voice lifts slightly but never cathartic, stating facts not singing anthem] It's a strange town, strange town When the words don't match the ground It's a strange town, strange town Where the living make no sound And I don't know what we're fighting for When home feels like a foreign shore [Verse 2: Arrangement holds, voice remains flat with micro-break on "eyes still clean"] He mentions a battle I was inside Says "strategic victory," speaks of national pride I remember the boy—couldn't have been seventeen His blood on my bayonet, his eyes still clean The way that the screaming just suddenly stopped The frost on the bodies when morning light dropped [Chorus: Cello intensifies slightly, harp pattern more insistent] It's a strange town, strange town When the ink rewrites the drowned It's a strange town, strange town Where the maps don't show the ground And I don't know what we're dying for When truth is just a rumor from the war [Verse 3: Full arrangement now—guitar, harp, cello—but still restrained, building tension not release] He's talking economies, shifting alliances I'm tasting hardtack and counting the silences Between the cannons, between each breath The way you stop counting the hours you have left My brother's last letter is folded in my coat It reached me three days after they cut his throat [Bridge: Everything thins out—harp and voice primarily, barely contained tremor in vocal] He's listing the reasons, the border lines I'm watching his mouth move, the shape of the words My brother's last letter says "home by springtime" It reached me in August, mud-sealed, unheard The way that he signed it—"your Edward, as before" But there is no before, there's only this floor [Final Chorus: Military snare enters distant and sparse, all instruments present but restrained, voice slightly rougher/more worn] It's a strange town, strange town When the living wear a crown It's a strange town, strange town And the truth won't make a sound And I don't know what I'm breathing for Every breath just tastes like war Every home's a strange town now [Outro: All instruments drop except harp, slowing tempo naturally, voice half-spoken/half-sung, intimate and hollow] (The gentleman asks if I'll return to service) (I watch the fields pass) [Final harp arpeggio descending, then hard cut to silence—no fade] © James Stuart Baker 2026
