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So long he is gone |
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With a pale servile face |
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His way led him through |
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A cold bloody haze |
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His yell pierced the cold ghastly morning |
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As he raised his sword to fight evil |
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So like millions before |
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He died in his gore |
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And those who survived |
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Died in their minds |
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For those who failed to care |
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Were dead before |
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Who loves his sword even loves war |
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Four children he left behind |
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With a mournin`mother |
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All their dreams return nevermore |
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Their world got lost - killed in war |
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There on the field, with dew on his eyes |
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His empty face stared up to the sky |
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One final breath curses his foes |
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No blessing for his beloved ones |
