Sentries are on the bluff.

You would not be wise to be the last

Soldier in this line as we make our move through this brush.



How did we get so pinned down

to have to fight all and nothing at once?

Rot sets in from trenches dug with our cold, bare hands.



The rain's burning through the roof

made from lies a bullet can't touch and

brothers look in each other's eyes

for reasons to make the reasons just.

The ground never felt so cold

The barrels of our guns get too hot to

we wouldn't dare put them down.

It's best that we don't stand up

In a war from which no one is exempt.

We were told before we left to repent.

Watched the smoke smother the lost politics

and fade away into the crisp, mourning air.



Centuries are in the dust.

We are no more wise to see through glass

Cases displaying the ways history had with us.

How did we get so pinned down?

Dying to fight and fighting to die?

Rotting in the trench that's dug, every time, by and by.



Memory is best kept short and sweet

In a world that is quick to forget you.



Memory is best kept short and sweet

In a world that is quick to forget you.



Memory is best kept short and sweet

In a world that is quick to forget you.