King, Queen, honor of your Country Men
The blind man's fate, while another man waits
The reality, brutality, walk a line of mortality
The blooded poppies in the fields I've seen
I know i can't put a name to your face
Guess you hold a your love one in place
Wonder if she will ever be the same
Did she call you, her sweetest flame
Well you start to welled yours ocean eyes up
The droplets fall from the soul punctured cup
A father would of been so proud
Every moment he hides the tears he ploughed
Did you do it for your hearts dedication
Mother sorry for no more family generation
In the distance you can hear the soldiers wade
Beating to the drums of a trumpet fade
Bold and brave the words upon the grave
When you took your life, so i could be saved
The blooded poppies in the fields I've seen
The reality, brutality, walk a line of mortality
The blind man's fate, while another man waits
King , Queen, honor of your Country Men
Copyright 2018 MPOETB.
The Passchendaele Trumpet Reflects a sad sorrow tribute about two strangers ( soldiers), who have just meet. In a war torn field, it shall also become the last moments of life together.