Dominoes, each fall with a rhythm, a time
Where is time? What is time? There is and there isn't, no, not in war
We each wait and watch; we will all have our turn, our battles
some will pass before others

Dominoes in the dark, each shall cast its own shadow
as those who walk in pain and are bound for camps known only to death
each beg only with their eyes for pain is too much for words

Dominoes, they have only dots; where are the words gone?
Words of a book can keep some going
while for others it's something else-maybe fear-no one can really say

Dominoes, as they fall there is barely a sound
unlike the bombs and guns of war

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