I know they told us this was World War II.
There would be no more wars when we were through.
I guess we may have often thought they lied.
As each day would pass and some more had died.
In this land we had no choice but to roam,
With nothing but dog tags to get us home.
I saw identifications swapped now and then,
Wondering what was in the minds of men.
Who would desert hope of their next of kin.
To bury their sad past, yet not their sin.
So who knows who is in this unmarked grave,
Who fought ever so valiantly and brave?
Is it not enough to know he's a shell?
Spent and free of his purpose in this hell?
