Clashes of irons, screams of pain,
a kiss of time, of coming peace.

Gone the soldiers, gone the screams,
gone the angers, but not the taint it seems.

Blood is spurting, from homeless limbs,
Home is coming, yet in crimson veils.

Gone the soldiers, gone home red,
Gone the soldiers, with bloodstained blades,

Gone my soldiers, they gone home red,
in crimson red, from wounds so great,
with gaping voids, from hearts gone dead,
Alas our soldiers had gone home red.

05/01/2004