They gave us a bearing upon which to march with a hand full of orders and collars of starch,
The carefree soldier of yesterday’s gone, now lost and alone, the grey man marches on. Helplessly drowning within his own mind, living with memories of unchangeable times, times from which our eyes still see, at night when I close them still before me.
In the night lying helpless unable to speak, biting my tongue unable to wake. They gave so much but it means little to so many, and those who care are too few if any. They gave us a bearing on which to march and we marched for glory God and colours, no care for self only that of our brothers.
I am still here when so many have gone; now I remember their faces one by one. They became a rank upon a wall, while I got back safely away from it all. Now just the neighbour who nobody knows, the one that just nods then comes and goes. The one they see just passing by, who has no happiness in his eyes, no history in this town no roots from which to lay down. We were just kids when we left this place,
And not a soul remembers my face.
The world kept turning and life has moved on, some have short memories of where they’ve all gone, nor will they remember the ones left behind, the injured the sick the deaf and the blind, they all deserve more than a ribbon and pin, for they all gave their lives for the mess the worlds in. Though now I wretch on the past that is gone, I still have that bearing and alone I march on.