Beneath the whispering pines of our cemetary 
Lies the soldiers of life who have given all to give
Who now in the hands of their God, pray for the redemption
Of their family and friends.

Above them the wind whispers in the trees, never more and what might have been.
Where are the mourners now, the love and friendship that died with our last breath
Where are our children who took so much and gave so little
Is their selfishness a virtue or a sin?

Carry on good soldier, as you were, the bugle sounds above the flaxen fields and echos off
the hills of your memory
Time to rest........time to rest.

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