A cold misty morning
On a gloomy winters day
The soldiers leave the barracks
In hope of victory
As they take the dreaded weapons
They think of their hometown
Their friends and family
As they march out
To the horrifying trenches
They take up there positions
And they know what’s ahead
They can hear the thumping of gunfire
They can see the stern looks
As you look through the telescope
You see the same thing
Many of them know these might be
Their last days to live