I've seen your trenches,and I've seen your graves,
I've heard of your weapons and heard of your slaves,
I've imagined the fumes and imagined the rain,
I've imagined the sights but can't imagine the pain.
Not from bayonets,nor shrapnel blasting out,
But from the vision of the gunshot taking the Fritz down.
From the riddling guilt as your hand pulled the trigger,
Which wiped out the unknown,young German figure.
From the nightmares of his family collapsing at the news,
That their beloved son had succumbed to his wounds.
You look over these beaten fields awash with confusion,
Wondering how on Earth humans partake in such delusion.
How they thought,somehow,it'd be the most fitting plan:
"To sort out all of the world's problems-set man after man!".
You walked out on that field regardless, till your last dying breath.
And you made sure,under all circumstances, to fight until death.
For this I'm forever grateful and still can't suffice,
Why we give you two minutes a year, when you gave us your life.

In 1914 when the cold wind blew,
Through no-mans land with a familiar tune.

In two opposing languages,
Both sides sang,
In perfect harmony,
Their voices rang out.

Two brave souls who started it all,
Risked their lives for a game of ball.

Germany and UK played side-by-side,
Enemies who became friends despite their divide.

A Christmas truce and a miracle of war,
A handshake that would become much, much more.

The sound of whistle
A rattle of gunfire
Dodging the shrapnel
Straight over the barbed wire

Heading towards the enemy, I hold my breath
Say a prayer, as we plunge into our death
Through the smoke, mud and lead

Our foe lies just ahead
Clasping my rifle tight
Their guns ablaze with spite

We get so close, yet still too far
With burst of fire I go down
No one near, I choke a cry
No one hears, my time is nigh

See my comrades falling down
In the shrill their voices drown
The wailing shells - our passing bells

Soon my friends we'll meet again
And so we die at Passchendaele

Tie your shuka on your shoulder
Gather your shield and spear of death
The white God for now you are to soldier
Find your courage and take one last deep breath.

You thought war was made of
Those things that you gathered,
You were wrong, so we shoved
A gun and ammo for you to lather.

This is your duty, and that's what you believe  
This is your duty, go out and try not to bleed
This is your duty, and that of thy enemies.

You held the gun like we showed
You walked to the place we told
You believed the lies we sold
All while wearing the white man's blindfold.

With a smile and a glimmer of hope
The men you sought
Found you first
And now you rest
Under the dry dirt.

But that's ok for they
Were only shooting
In the name of Duty,
So Hooray!

Beatings. Cries. Shells raining down like
tears from his mothers face! Another coffin
to pay for in all this madness. Who cares if
she's lost everything she held dear to her?
She's screaming;
"He's too small for all this space!
He's too small for this place! His boots
don't even fit him right!"
Limping up and down up and down towards
the end and even then his eyes won't stay open;
all this fighting for what? Another war?
Another scream? Another ten million voices silenced at
the hands of word like bullets.
With the rampaging, and the madness,
the air becomes too much.
Things like to implode and combust like silence does...

is that...it?

is that what silence sounds like?