The sand burns as they walk along
to these bastard lands, these children belong;
His eyes red with blood, he takes a child's arm
asks for his mother, and tears up her heart;
this child will be a martyr, said the soldier loud
his parents stood still, with bloodied hearts;
from the beaten jeep, the cursed belt arrived,
fastened 'round the child, his future was denied;
the soldier drove away, the unfortunate by his side,
sent through the howling hills, to the enemy's heart;
his final moments blank, as the soldier's soul,
the young child marched on to his doom;
from the other side, an epic blast ensued,
the child's mother fainted while the soldier's smile grew,
as tragic as it was, the enemy was no more.
