The sounds of the battle pound in my head.
The guns, fused with the cries of my fellow men.
I wish I could cry for my brothers,
Who in eternal sleep lie
Upon the desert sands,
Facing the sky.
I pick up my gun,
And off I trudge,
To fight an enemy
I canýt really see.
My feet, they feel like blocks of lead
Heavy with the predicaments that lie ahead.
I hear the sound of footsteps behind me,
I turn around fast,
But not fast enough to see-
The barrel, which points at my head
I hear a sharp crack,
And a dull pain invades my chest.
I fall back on the desert floor
It is a warm April night,
But I feel so cold.
Beholding the muted colours in the sky,
So peaceful in itýs moonlit glory,
I weep, for all that is burnt, ravaged and destroyed.
And as slowly the darkness comes,
A question inside me burns.
I ask HE who waits for me above,
In this broken and defeated world,
Where is the love?
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