Old soldiers never die,
They just keep on marching by,
In ***** or by the right,
Their legions prove a wondrous sight
When viewed in memory.
But looking on with memory,
Shows only what we want to see.
And while illuminating youth,
It hides from us the actual truth,
Does memory.
It never shows the blood, the fear,
It obfuscates the anguished tear,
And as those shadows march on by,
Do we forget they had to die – to live
In memory?