Belongs to a soldier in a coat,
Cold death will come quick and fast,
Like the wars from the past.
Bright red blood running down my face,
I'm a stranger in this place,
The pain is almost unbearable,
A fiery glaze from the stable.
Children with tears in their eyes,
Their startled and helpless cries,
Fathers and brothers are all dead,
Oh, the pain in my head.
The sounds of guns and moaning men,
This is our country, we will defend,
The enemy number went completely down,
Not a living enemy can be found.
This is a cold and terrible war,
There is nothing left, anymore,
The enemy is dead and we march on,
A beginning will start at the coming dawn.
by: Charlene Longwell