The Waking Sleep.

The Waking Sleep.

Into the gully,
Pools of blood tremble,
Upon the crimson poppy's,
The puppets shall assemble,

"On, on, on!"
Calls the Sargent's tongue,
And they march unto death,
As the battle has begun,

Guns held in their arms,
Ammo on their backs,
Family in their heads and hearts,
And friends on the tracks,

Out in the open,
Heads cracked to start,
Blood splattered on each face,
And they're next to bow apart,

Poppy for each heart that's died,
A bed to let them rest,
A stone for a couple words,
And the priest speaks to be blessed,

"Ashes to ashes,
Dust to dust,
Open the gates to heaven,
And the hearts you must."