He was from the Bayou
A southern boy through and through
And so young, but he had seen so much
He was the one they looked to,
While their corpses rotted on the snowy fields
He remained unscathed,
His beautiful portrait clean and intact
But he couldn’t say the same for his friends
And with the weight of the world
Upon his busted shoulders
He was calmness and care personified
Over there, he was not just the boy from the bayou
He was a traiteur
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