the tin soldiers, stairs and play

glory like gold scales on a fish. praise falls and fades like a shooting star. take your tin soldiers, come to my stairs to play.
where are your generals, where are they? if they are alive, what ways do they walk? take your tin soldiers, come to my stairs to play.
all i know is that a dead napoleon is buried so it won’t stink, but a living kitten gets warm milk to eat.
they will bury you, and me; kittens like children will drink some milk. take your tin soldiers, come to my stairs to play.
do not be sad, take your tin soldiers, come to my stairs, and we will play.

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