Rome - Skirmishes for Diotima lyrics

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 compa**ion 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