Casuality of War

Caught in the crossfire,
So many have fallen.
I am wounded;
Bullets fly over head,
While the dead rest underfoot
And I fell.

Losing alot of blood,
Which color my uniform
And this cursed soil red.
I pull myself up,
With all my strength.

Why must I die?
I am a good man.
I raise my head,
A cry to all the heavens.
For the glory of death is eminemt.

Good night sweet prince,
In his name I die.
With my last breath,
I try to stand.

Slipping in the blood
And drowning in my tears;
I rise and fall,
Up and down,
Upright and horizontal.
Here I lay in my final resting place,
With so many in the mud.