The possible dream

Finale of seem

The moment that some call eternal that some call insane

now helmets on each head awaiting the first lead

The pageant is named the pencil rain



The infantry stands

And holds out its hands

The marshal's binoculars focus and skyward they train

They're searching the yonder blue

They look out for number two

The heraldry of the pencil rain



And now hear the roar that none can ignore

The thunderous clatter of spintering wood and lives that are claimed

And one who have witnessed all

Can think of a nobler cause than perishing in the pencil rain

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