War Time Writings

Quiver

Let me quiver in my boots
Claiming im cold and I need some rest
But that isn't the real reason.

The bullets penetrated the back of my head
I think what it would be like to swap boots with my friend.
A dead man's boots which will be covered in his sweat, urine and blood;
A nice dose of death will cheer me up.

And get me out of this fear that I feel,
Gas streams throughout the trenches
Hitting people, knocking them dead
As I lie, thinking of what is going to happen next
On the muddy floors, my head gets covered
But now let's not think of that.

It's time to be a man.
Time to go over.
Time to die.