To the war drums, screams and blares we dance, Moving our legs in simultaneous accord.
Our common sense gone with the wind Our sense of pride and importance full to the brim.
Confidently we move through happy greens and bustling villages,
Our legs still dancing in accord Our senses still confident and strong,
The drummer boy keeps up with the hype of the moment.
Suddenly the happy green turns deep red,
Our simultaneous dance breaks up in frenzy Our protective senses kick in,
We are now in no man's land.
The melody of the drums and trumpets is now long forgotten,
Replaced by the barks of 'we shall not retreat' by our high and mighty generals,
I look around for the drummer boy but all I see are his sticks covered in blood and mud.
All around me I see my brethren scattered across
The blood soaked land like empty seashells in the sand
A father, a son, a brother, a human,
Left to the worms and crows.
Finally the generals gain their heads and call for retreat,
We turn and run, the drummer boys sticks firmly in my hand,
Back through the once bustling villages we trudge
A cold grey feeling hangs in the air.
Hungry, disappointed eyes follow us
Eyes that tell the story of hate and anger all too well,
These are the wives, the sisters and daughters
These are the real victims of war.
At night I lay awake haunted by the dying groans and wishes of humans,
The fear in their eyes permanently engraved on my mind.