Stick your head above the trench
smell the stench
clench your cheeks,
I've got 20/20
plenty of time to dodge
the bullets that seek to
destroy me but
having read the rules of warfare where there's
nothing fair, I no longer care
there's a Claymore with my name on it and
one day I'll be hit and blown apart,pulled off the
battlefield,as dead as God, in the ambulance cart.
Until that time I shall spend some time in the mud and grime talking to
Harry who's last name is not Lime although he's heard of him,
sometimes in the trench the humour's grim but we grin and bear because we no longer care.