Battlefield Of Their Own
Explosions making dusty screens
And sounds of creatures' furious cries.
Fire bursts from man made machines
Dropping bodies of blue and red overflown,
While walking over their own.
Through all this time thinking of a way
They could get out and live.
Burning metal and melting skin
In such a way no one would want shown,
While walking over their own.
Nothing left but death and charred bodies,
But the thoughts of families and hopes
Still wander over the wasteland,
And ghosts appear moaning alone,
While walking over their own.
The dead shall not walk and all that can
Are left to mourn their allies
And scorn their enemies stabbing at them,
So blood shall be a barrier for nothing to be grown,
While walking over their own.
When all is over and the battle is done,
And people will shout that they have won,
The dead are buried in graves
and carved writing in stone,
"While walking over their own."
