In the wake of dawn,
I see them marching along,
Their faces grim and sober.

Soldiers, each and every one,
Those suffering at the hands of fate,
In uniforms and tattered clothes.

They each carry their cross,
Ones they shoulder,
For a battle that should never happen.

To the right is a blood-dripped sun,
Sorrowful and melancholy,
Displaying each soldier’s loss.

To the left are the bodies of the fallen,
That none notice,
Among the ruins of crumbled society.

The soldiers march on,
Being spat on among the noise,
The noise of those crying out,

“We do not need you”,
As chaos ensues,
Forgetting our history.

We forget what makes us free,
What makes us whole,
What makes us human.

As the soldiers march on,
To a battle no one asked for,
Each one dying on our hands.

No one dares say a word,
Display a care or any grief,
Show our humanity.

We never asked for war,
A war that divides us all,
Killing our core values.

In the wake of dawn,
The soldiers march on,
Day by day until forever ends.