Consumption

and so he sees the broken city
the broken glas and burning roof
hears children cry, oh what a pity
the old man does not try to move

he sees the fog, it's getting dark
the face of war still keeps on smiling
he is just one. and while dogs bark
dark clouds move over like they're sailing
trying to escape

In his hand the last white flower
it's withered but you can guess its beauty
the leaves with every hour lower
to hold it is his only duty