Imagine a soldier dying at combat zone;
lying in a pool of blood holding flag so high,
crawling in pain to reach his gun;
'cause he don't wanna give up before he says goodbye.


Bullets are crossing his heart;
as he tries to get up; pain breaks his spine,
he falls again with his arm up in air, thinking;
if we weren't at combat zone, we must be sharing glasses of wine.



The flashback runs him through;
he says goodbye to the world; so brute,
and he goes down on knees;
in front of the flag, he makes the last salute.


Sound of gun fire echoes in the sky;
patches of blood are covering every inch of his skin,
he now sleeps in the arms of Gaia;
with lots and lots of wishes buried within.


He never wanted to fight like every mother's son;
and now he lies speechless in despair,
like a hero, he rests in peace;
and people box him up with 21 gun-shots in air.


The flashback runs them through;
they say don't be back to this world; so brute,
and they go down on their knees;
in front of his body, they make the last salute.

© Shreya ♥