Christmas Forever ft. Lynz

If you have some time for me, then I'll sing a song for you about 99 balloons on their way to the horizon.
If you happen to be thinking of me right now, then I'll sing a song for you… one about 99 balloons… and what comes from them.

99 balloons were on their way to the horizon. People thought they were UFOs from space, so a general sent up a fighter squadron after them. Well, sound the alarm if it's so! but… all I saw on the horizon were 99 balloons.

Bent double, like old beggars under sacks,
Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge,
Till on the haunting flares we turned our backs
And towards our distant rest began to trudge.
Men marched asleep. Many had lost their boots
But limped on, blood-shod. All went lame; all blind;
Drunk with fatigue; deaf even to the hoots
Of tired, outstripped Five-Nines that dropped behind.
 	 
99 fighter jets– Each one's a great warrior. Each thought he was Captain Kirk. Cue the fireworks.

Gas! Gas! Quick, boys!—An ecstasy of fumbling,
Fitting the clumsy helmets just in time;
But someone still was yelling out and stumbling
And floundering like a man in fire or lime...
Dim, through the misty panes and thick green light,
As under a green sea, I saw him drowning.

the neighbors didn't understand anything
and felt like they were being provoked
so they shot at the horizon
at 99 balloons.

In all my dreams, before my helpless sight,
He plunges at me, guttering, choking, drowning.
 	 
99 war ministers now wield matches and gasoline canisters.
They thought they were clever people– they called for war and wanted power.
But oh, my, who would've thought hat things would someday go so far
because of 99 balloons.

If in some smothering dreams you too could pace
Behind the wagon that we flung him in,
And watch the white eyes writhing in his face,
His hanging face, like a devil’s sick of sin;
If you could hear, at every jolt, the blood
Come gargling from the froth-corrupted lungs,
Obscene as cancer, bitter as the cud
Of vile, incurable sores on innocent tongues,—
My friend, you would not tell with such high zest
To children ardent for some desperate glory,
The old Lie: Dulce et decorum est
Pro patria mori.

The 99 years of war left no room for victors.
There are no more war ministers… no more jet fighters or Captain Kirks.
Today I'm making my rounds see the world… the world I knew, lying in ruins.
I found a balloon in the rubble.
If you happen to be thinking of me right now, this song was for you.
I’ll think of you and let it fly away.


Dulce et decorum est
Pro patria mori.
it is sweet and honorable to die for one's country.

99 Red Balloons (Ultimate Edition)

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x soundcloud.com/marcscibiliaofficial/summer-clothes

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