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Silvermen
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A Burnt Page
I am writing these most honest words to get them off my chest
No soul back home will know these events exist
and I'll ignite the page in the next fire I see that this
day from hell may burn with it
I woke to the sound of shells exploding overhead
And it seems I had stumbled to sleep in my foxhole and much to my regret
I woke from a beautiful dream of after death
The days were longer, the air was warmer, and it was just me and my cigarette
But it was all gone in a cloud of smoke
and there it was again the smell of the shit they've left behind
Rotting blood and smoldering flesh. Oh, and how did I forget to mention
My clothes are frozen to the ground
with some mixture of my loaders blood running down
And my cold sweat. The truth is I talk a bit too much
And I'm just as scared of those bastards as they should be of us
I still can't get this scene out of my head
It was when I strung up that kraut and three times it took to hang him dead
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And as he hanged there, swaying in the wind
He did not gasp for air so I drew his gun and shot him anyways
And let me not forget to speak of the other men
To the firing line for them
Not one of them put up a fight, in the line they stand
before 20 shots went and tore through their chests and heads
No mercy was felt that day
At least we were killing them the honest way
What we should've done was fucking gas them and burn their remains
And throw them in the dirt so their families will know the same pain
Now I still know you back home can't understand
Most of the people we find have vacant eyes
They're callused by beatings by an iron hand
No will to live but God they've tried
No weapon of love given to defend the poor souls
Against the cruel men
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