From Flanders to Strawberry Fields

In Flanders Fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly.
Scarce heard amid the guns below.

We are the Dead.
Short days ago We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow.
Loved and were loved,
and now we lie In Flanders fields.

Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep,
though poppies grow In Flanders fields.
-LTCol John McCrae, MD (1872-1918)


Let me take you down,
'cause I'm going to Strawberry Fields.
Nothing is real and nothing to get hung about.
Strawberry Fields forever.

Living is easy with eyes closed,
misunderstanding all you see.
It's getting hard to be someone but it all works out.
It doesn't matter much to me.

No one, I think, is in my tree,
I mean it must be high or low.
That is you can't, you know, tune in but it's all right.
That is I think it's not too bad.

Always know sometimes think it's me,
but you know I know when it's a dream.
I think, er No, I mean, er Yes but it's all wrong.
That is I think I disagree.

Let me take you down,
'cause I'm going to Strawberry Fields.
Nothing is real and nothing to get hung about.
Strawberry Fields forever.
Strawberry Fields forever.
Strawberry Fields forever.
-John Lennon and Paul McCartney

Thank you to every man and woman whose service and sacrifice made, and makes, this day, and all the days that remain, possible.
-bill kenny