As the moon starts to rise,

Just as the sun starts to wilt,

And your heart fills with shame,

That is consumed by your guilt,

And you gaze over,

The bloody stained battlefield,

Then you realize the truth,

You have officially killed.

 

You are dead,

You are dying.

 

As the last man stands,

So too his soul weeps alone,

And his eyes turn to cold,

With darkness, Dawn unknown,

And he gazes down at,

The crimson face that is known,

And a tear ripples,

The tattered heart that is torn.

 

You are dead,

You are dying.

 

As the last soldier falls,

His body fades into ash,

And he slings back his head,

With streaking tear of the past,

And a howl screeches,

Shattering all of silence,

While what once was pure,

Is drenched deep in sin.

 

You are dead,

You are dying.