The skies are a tinted gray,
And smoke is everywhere;
Bombings are heard here and there,
Coupled with chaos and fear.
Soldiers marching to their end,
Their hearts filled with hope, they'd win;
One man remains standing now,
And thought the battle he won.
As he turned and walked away,
A gun's shot fired through the air;
Pain shot through him as he turned,
As he faced the battlefield.
There he saw a man lying,
Wounded and bathed in his blood;
Barely breathing and moving,
Holding up his own rifle.
Then he saw death's hideous face,
Standing right before him;
He stood tall and faced death,
Then he prayed before he sleep.