Over the Top!

Another day another pile of dead bodies in my little hole,
The colonel orders another charge screaming “over the top lads!”
But I don’t want to go, please don’t make me go.
I can’t fight in this war, this war with this evil that consumes me,
I have to go, have to fight, I must win or the evil will eat my mind away.

So I charge, with all the other young men and my comrades find themselves gunned down,
But they miss me,
Why must they miss me? Please hit me I pray.
There it is, the trench where the evil lies with its biting 7.62 mm guns and sharp knifes.
Jumping down in it I engage this evil in hand-to-hand combat,

The evil knows what to expect as I charge down into the cursed trench,
And their stinging blades stab me through.
I will not die, why won’t I die?
Taking my bayonet I stab each through the throat and they fall dead,
But I don’t die; I can only fall to the bottom of the trench, exhausted.

Light filters down through the sky and fall on me,
As my wounds close up and the pain leaves I curse the light.
Getting up from where I lay I find my hands to be wet with blood.
As the blood oozes off my hands I can feel the memories of my childhood slip from my mind.
Please let me die so this will stop, I don’t want to forget.

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