Holding dog tags in my hand,
All is silent in no mans land.
All around the grounds are smoken,
Scattered about are bodies broken.
In the craters new and old,
Lay our bodies dead and cold.
Corpse rats running everywhere,
Always hungry;Always there.
Across the space called no man's land,
The Germans wait with guns in hand.
With their torches they begin to rise,
Burning our bodies before our eyes.
Mustard gas begins to sear,
Those who happen to be near.
All around bombs begin to burst,
At the Germans we will curse.
All are tired and losing hope,
Wondering how they even cope.
Watching as their comrades fall,
A sight too common to them all.
Some may sing a simple song,
A tune to help them carry on.
Few are blind to the facts of war,
Facts that shake them to the core.
