It's near the hour of our death
patient. until our final rest
draw near another test:
which best the undead or the unrest?
We march at morning light
we guard by day delight
we lite the skies at night
we mark our targets bright
whisper, "we have them in our sights."
seconds past – or minutes last
our trigger fingers collapse
and ignite the sparks inside
we write with tracers right
"now left! they're coming from the forest nest!"
they come to steal whats left
they thirst to feast upon the flesh
they thrive, were out of breath
sweaty broth of bloody tears beading off our skin
boiling from our hearts within, hatred come again
our ammo's low
our lantern's thin
our morale is wearing slim
"they're in, they tripped the wire," someone fired from defense
last frag I pluck the pin and flip the spoon
our fears and frights amend
our sins we do condemn
we wither grim with silent grins until we reach THE END.