Men are marching
Heads held high above the clouds
Of smoke and poison gas
Too proud to think of what lay ahead
Denying to themselves that they know |
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A tint of shock
Took over fearless faces
That looked down at the bloody mess
In the fields below |
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One man stumbles
Through the trenches
Dreading the trip to "No Man's Land"
Where so many had gone before
Never to return |
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Up onto the battle field he charged
Daring to be noble
Sounds of fighting drowning him
A gunshot rang out in the distance
A sharp pain; Hit
A curtain of red fell over his eyes
and all went dark |
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Suddenly he was above it all
Floating away from the conflict below
And free from all pain |
