| As my face reflects
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| Behind enemy lines
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| Yet separated by
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| Barbwire and mines
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| Knee deep in freezing mud
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| Best «pals» breath I tried to regain
|
| The worst factor is, not knowing
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| Of the time that remains
|
| Contamination dashes in a bloody trench
|
| Poetry written amongst shrapnel and friends
|
| Sanity buckles under the weight
|
| Of steel and spraying lead
|
| Howitzers toll an ominous death knell
|
| Ear-splitting elegy above those who fell
|
| Corruption seeks a lonesome trace
|
| Gangrenous limbs or a blown off face
|
| Amputation in the killing field
|
| Infection overcomes, affection concealed
|
| Puppets of war race over the edge
|
| Commence death dance at close quarters
|
| Hope of truce torn and bloodstained
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| A thousand lives lost and only twenty yards gained
|
| As battle tires out
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| And bombing starts to die
|
| Dead soldiers all around
|
| With fear injected into their eyes
|
| 400.000 Britain’s dead
|
| 600.000 Germans put to rest
|
| Fallen in the battle of Somme
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| One million youngsters dead and gone |