| I’ve been hit! |
| Oh My God! |
| Oh My God!
|
| The ground burst and cold soaks my shirt. |
| Send word!
|
| The clarit river forms at my boots
|
| With a flash and rain of dirt
|
| I’ve been met for the hundredth time
|
| Call the medic. |
| This wounds meant to cripple! |
| RUN!
|
| The red crest on his head
|
| And a choice off his lips
|
| He sat never once phased. |
| He,
|
| While I’m open and spilling!
|
| Am I a sheep for the slaughter?
|
| Am I JUST a sheep for the slaughter?
|
| No no, please no, help me!
|
| Oh Death, must you reap one more?
|
| Medic! |
| I’ve been hit! |
| Oh my God! |
| Oh my God!
|
| The ground burst and cold soaks my shirt. |
| Send word!
|
| The clarit river forms and pools over my head
|
| And for a moment I’m submerged in the lake,
|
| And a sparks birth could not be heard.
|
| All night the thunder of war raged
|
| And it finally seemed as if I had met the eye.
|
| With fights more lost than won I walk away with one trophy
|
| A thousand scars on my own chest
|
| Only to realize nowhere else was I hit.
|
| But then with your grip gloved by mercy
|
| I was wrenched back to the storm!
|
| Lay dead or charge the line! |
| Another patch wont do!
|
| Cut it from my chest, and begin this run. |