The Trench
We've dug down deep.
We've dug our trench.
This smell of death
We wish to quench.
The mortars fall on muddy field.
The bodies mount in no mans land.
The enemies fight neither wish to yield.
For freedom we wish to stand.
The rats they feed on the rotting flesh.
On friends that have fallen.
They felt the reapers caress.
This trench is evil
It's a living hell.
Filled with the dead,
and their putrid smell.
The trench surrounded by barbed wire.
It's shrouded in mist.
Attacked with machine gun fire.
The lives that are lost.
Their sacrifice made.
We owe them a debt that can never be paid
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