Tall, strong and silent I stand,
Holding my arms to the sky and in my hands
Million fingers hold tiny banners
Flowing with the grace and majesty that
Only can befall my peers.

And though I stand, proud of my self
My brothers and my sisters fall.
Though once we were
A steadfast army of peace,
Rank and file falls,
Casualties of this war.

As a soldier my feet have been
In place while around me a city rose
And my armor remains
Even as my banners are stripped
From me every year the war endures
Until I myself fall to become
The funeral pyre of another soldier.