The stark memories haunting a soldiers' life
ne'er fall by the wayside nor lost in the mists of time
The mangled masses of flesh, the blood, the death
the sounds of your buddies' last breath

Linger; always pressing near
ofttimes reducing one to tears
summoning the ghastly fears
the close calls, the horrors drear

For life the soldier relives those moments
over and over and over, times untold
Only when he passes into oblivion and silence
the breadth of his sacrifice ne'er to unfold

New generations freely given freedom
know not the cost of turmoil nor value
Spend their youth in the midst of an Eden
unknowing, uncaring of struggle they never knew

The smell of spent gunpowder
the clash and roar of struggle
in the silence, get louder and louder
gaunt faces, tired eyes, dirty faces of stubble

Appear as if apparitions
memory after memory
moment by moment
vaguely through misty darkness without mercy

Of such they wish not to think
of freedom where blood is the ink
From the struggle of those gone before, they shrink
not willing to give the Tree of Libery, drink

Their forbears blood, their sacrifice, their lives
to the youth of today, it's such a bore
they'd rather make love, not strive
to prevent the Memories Of War.