The wind is blowing in the air. O ld, tired muscles start to ache, Shell bombs blow, lives they take. R esting in ditches, cold and hard. No sign of love, not even a card. L onely, shivering minds alike. The War's intention is as sharp as a spike. D ashing around with enemies at aim. Fighting to survive that's the name of the game. W arroirs soon turn away. The ground that turned cold where brave men lay. A dead soldier is laying on the ground, Soft and still, not making a sound. R ed Alert! Red Alert! The enemy is shown. The shell bombs are activated, then viciously thrown. O ne in ten soldiers die, Dead on the floor they usually lie. N ew recruits come, some only sixteen. Against the hard mud they're ordered to lean. E nemies finally give up in the frost, But in World War One many lives were lost. |