Holed up in a bunker, a soldier dreams that the war is over.
It's just poetic justice, a dream for an emerging new dawn.
See, every soldier defying orders, leaves the post and embrace
the one whom he was made to think as enemy in his naivety
they dance in the no man's land, where they plant a rose garden
With them aloud, let's chant,"Bury the guns fellas, war is a tale
told by perverts of the worst kind, just to sell deadly warheads.
that **** happiness, book the culprits that make war, allow them not
to fornicate truth, blatantly like this, deceive the world , gift turmoil."