Low on rations, these countless masses,
Are waiting for their orders
When darkness falls, they'll hear the call,
To cross their enemy's borders
They have no hope, as they mournfully mope,
Unto the hands of death
Where men have died, and some still lie,
Holding their very last breath
The young and the old, some lost and some cold,
And some just over eighteen
No matter their pride, no one can abide,
The horrors that they've seen
Yet with gun in hand, they solidly stand,
Protecting their freedom and home
In the face of their fears, the bloodshed and tears,
They're united, but die all alone.

 
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