Poetry

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We woke on a world far from home

On a planet that was not our own

We got guns and ships and knowledge to

But of The Outfitters hardly a clue

Some thought it Heaven

Some thought it Hell

Some had depression

Others aggression

Some went renegade

and ran from the fight

But most manned the barricades and did what was right

Now we stand against the Blue Skins 

Drinking our gin

racking up sins

waiting to feel the warm winds of home again

So far from our globe 

we hope to die on Gia’s stones and be covered in a sod robe.

But if we die in the deep darkness of space our body lost without a trace

Write our names on a stone

facing it east

so we can find some measure of peace

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