Remembrance
Remembrance
We march away from the trenches.
My arms still holding my gun.
No more will I raise it to kill.
There are no shouts, no jubilation
Just the crunch of boots.
Each step tales me away, nearer to home
But no nearer to God.
Where was God on these field of battles
Where was he when my pals died.
Not here, must have been busy elsewhere.
The fields are stained with blood
Where the red poppies now grow.
They blow gently in the wind.
Millions of souls.
On this day of remembrance as the years go by
I will stand by the cross and bow my head.
I will remember my pals who never came home.
I will lay my wreath of red poppies
As tears slid down my face.
Whoever said war was noble.
Remember forever the futility of war.
Remember.
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