Skirmishes for Diotima - Rome

Weren’t they like skirmishes

In some great war?

Our kisses so deep but fleeting

Like vultures digging for lice

We were led to the soul by way of skirts

Were led to love by way of knives

We valued what war reversed

Season comes round

We break and fall, that’s all

Season comes round, we break and fall

Seasons come and go, that’s all

She thought me contemptible

No compassion for the fate

Of the little man who finds rest only

In the contempt of the great

And pity moves in funny ways

Let’s not try to be witty when the grave

Lies open before us

Always

Pity moves in funny ways

Let’s not try to be witty when the grave

Lies open before us

Always

Pity moves in funny ways

Let’s not try to be witty when the grave

Lies open before us

Always

Pity moves in funny ways

Let’s not try to be witty when the grave

Lies open before us

Always

Pity moves in funny ways

Let’s not try to be witty when the grave

Lies open before us

Always