Match, match.
Burning a box of match.
The fire lights up dim.
Brings back the war grim.

Those days through the fences.
March through the trenches.
March through the fire.
Without any desire.

I fought aimlessly
While aiming endlessly.
For I am a soldier
I will give no quarter.

But then the lights burn out.
I came back to reality with a quiet shout.
Comparing to a girl that lives with trees,
Was that really me?