Stars of the Battlefield

The sky burns red behind the smoke
Red like the bloodshed all around me
Red like the poppies on the crosses of the fallen
I hear nothing but the screaming as another fire breaks loose
Another beautiful sunset over this war-torn land.

Hours into the night a big silver ball arises over the blackest of night
And on we fight through the heaviest of times, until the sky
Breaks to morning light.

We arise from our camps to a crimson sun
A sun coloured like the stain of our soil
Our blood-spilled soil
The lives of the fallen live amongst the sky and the sun.

They will be remembered as the moon of our darkest nights
The sun of our dreary days
The stars of our battlefield.