The dark smoke is the final soft curtain,
To help young soldiers fall, asleep.
Distant bullets are their lullaby,
Singing for young hearts,
That were broken too soon.
Our loving minds remember them,
Nurturing their memories every day,
So full of life,
Their youthful hands now lie cold in the mud.
Living hearts now weep,
For the recurrent great injustice,
Of the best being lost.
Curse our human weakness for conflict,
Taking our finest, our heartblood.
One life lost,
To save another.
Such eternal gratitude,
That the sun is outshone.
With every dawn,
And every heartbeat,
And every nerve,
We shall remember them.
As we walk free,
Under the endless skies,
We will laugh, and live, and breathe,
The lives that they could not.