AS THE SMOKE CLEARS WE STAND ALONE
BARELY 40 FROM 400 OF US REMAIN
WE HAVE WON THE DAY
VICTORY IS OURS

YET WHAT GLORY THIS?
THAT LEAVES OUR BROTHERS DEAD AND DYING UPON THESE FIELDS
WHAT HOLLOW PRIZE
THAT WE ARE HAILED HEROES OF OUR LAND
WHILE OUR FALLEN ARE LOST FOREVER

AND NOW YOU SLEEP SAFE IN YOUR BEDS
AS HEROES GUARD THIS LAND
HEROES WHO AT NIGHT RELIVE THE YEARS OF BATTLE
THE UNTOLD HORRORS WE HAVE ENDURED
CARNAGE THAT TOOK OUR BROTHERS
AND SONS
AND COMRADES IN ARMS

THE WAR IS OVER
YET NO PEACE
NO GLORY
NO HAND OF LOVE
CAN BRING REST TO OUR SLUMBER
FORE WE FIGHT TO MORPHEUSES DRUM EACH NIGHT
AND IN THE WAKING HOURS WE STRIVE TO FORGET OUR DREAMS

HEROES?
AYE!
BUT AT WHAT COST.
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WRITTEN FOR MY GREAT GRANDFATHER WHO FOUGHT IN 'THE GREAT WAR' AS HE ALWAYS CALLED IT. WHO ON MANY NIGHTS COULD BE FOUND STANDING FACING THE WALL NEXT TO HIS BED,
WAITING WITH HIS BROTHERS TO GO OVER THE TOP.

GOOD NIGHT HERO!