O’er the battlements I do roam
in a place far away from my home.
Seeing first-hand the horrors of war
longing for peace from all the blood and the gore.
Sleep, it escapes me as I lie down for the night.
I still see the faces of the men I did smite.
Visions of soldiers I once called my friends
Lying dead on the fields, never to see home again.
Once great cities broken and crumbling away,
a terrible price for all who did pay.
Yet in the end as victors we stand
O’er the tyrants who ruled with strong hands.
Homeward we travel leaving behind
all the horrors of war to a place so sublime.
Our families they gather to carry us home
to write down our thoughts in the lines of a poem.
Still as we sleep the demons do come
to remind us of things we long to be gone.
Yet as we wake screaming in fright
we pray to the Lord to make it alright.
When does it end the horrors of war?
When the forces of evil are finally no more.