For he was a young soldier
Who loved his Germany
With all his honest heart
Like a son and a Father
They belonged together
As he sank into his trench
On the north side
He was aware of a tide
And had no one to confide
For each each day he battled
Against all rumor
There was no where to hide
As he felt trapped inside
And had no one on his side
As what were quiet whispers
A fluttering humming bird
Were now great big Rhino's
All angry and stampeding
Into the forefront of his mind
Whats happening to the Jews
And were did Alwin go
Were did he go
And why did I blank him
The week before he went
For I am lost and confused
As Germany has sewn
Razors around my heart

What had he done
Where had he gone
As his heart ached
With an almost ancient hollowness
That echoed over his battle field
His eyes all embedded
Became a blood reded
Two hot ball bearings
Carving with a burning envy
Into the enemy lines
As pierced through the sky
He said to himself
At least their gallant fight
Is in the just cause of right
And he picked up his rifle
Like a fire breathing dragon
He roared lead every where
As he drank up death
Like a tonic it quenched
The fiery hatred in is heart
A hot lava that dripped with venom
As his blindly sprayed his gun fire
For he was truly lost
And ran like a headless chicken
Into the arm of battle
As he sort peace down the
Canons of a Russian tank

How he loved his German uniform
A beautiful rich blue
With shiny new boots
As I paint over my regrets
For I have covered my rusty imperfection
In a gold plated uniform
I wear my thin skin of righteousness
So that I may point
To the naked imperfection of others
I live within the narrow trench of my own pride
As there is fear on every side
As I call upon all my regrets
As it is time to retreat
Into the hands of my imperfection
For I stand naked in the sun
My ego no where to hide
For I will not pick a side
As it is time to let go of pride

Regret is the Axe
that chops down my pride
The splinter that wakes my soul
To its duties in this world
Regret exposes the Viper
That hides in the jungle of pride
The pointing finger
Is a sleeping soul
Resting within its own pride
Pride draws you into the
Narrow trench of war
While regret is the angel
That offers you peace
In the tranquil space of
Your own imperfection
That brings you new hope
Made up in heaven
That we can call on
To save us from our own imperfection
That one day we are perfection