The sky is tinted crimson red
Like the blood of our lost men
One was shot walking down the road
Another was killed for slipping codes
Every night at half past ten

The fragile buildings are crumbling
Like the bones of our lost men
One was blasted into the air like breaths of ash
Another was flattened as the houses crash
The blame is on dutiful artillerymen

The air is choking, hopeless and dead
Like the eyes of our lost men
One fell with a scream on his lips
Another drowned with a sinking ship
Never to see light again

The bombs are loud, and they go fast
Like the hearts of our remaining men
One is trapped under heaps of rubble
Another is injured, and clumsily stumbles
“Lord God, save our souls, amen.”