Over the top, the order came,
Into the barb wire and chemical rain,
Machine guns, hoses of death and pain
Men rowed up, pawns in the imperial game.
Slip in the mud, a lucky brake,
Shells scream as the come in fast,
Huge craters swell from the blast,
Machine-gunners begin their demonic rake.
Crawl forward, carefully now,
Through the mud and body mounds,
Through the broken and barren ground,
So many bullets, that they miss i wonder how.
Awake years later in safety, where I live,
The memories of the death fresh in my head,
Unable to sleep in my suffocating bed:
The artillery and bullets just won't give.
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