The piercing sound of bombs whistle,
The helpless weep of men fighting for their lives,
Tossing and turning during the night,
A swirling sensation in your stomach,
The question every man is thinkin g tonight is,
Who will be next?

The firing of guns awakens everyone of us,
The glances one and other give when we hear one of our men have died,
When the powerful roars bellow from the screeching siren worns us a gas attack is coming,
The rain patters off the newly dead,
When the stench of rotting bodies swee into the icy dorms,
The question you ask yourself,
Will I be next?

Although all men out here are as strong and loyal,
What the war can do to you is make you as fragile as a flower,
The was is like a curse,an illness,
It destroys every ray of hope,
The war is an act sent by the devil,
The men that survive will forever be scarred,
And as I am writing this very sentence I am asking myself,
Will you be next?