Gunfire.
Will you remember me?
If I die right here,
Will you hear my plea?
I’ve been living off biscuits, bread and cheese,
Slept in the company of rats and fleas,
Get me out of this warfare, please!
Before I get shot, or die of disease.

Hellfire.
Is that what waits for me?
If I die right now,
Will the devil take me?
Anything is better than this battlefield,
I’d give anything to throw away the sword and the shield,
Pass them my gun and scream, “I yield!”
Before I’m bleached red in this poppy field.

Spitfire.
It looms over me,
With its’ bullets and bombs,
It torments me.
I don’t want to die, that’s not for me,
This blood and gore stain my hands, don’t you see?
Help me, oh please hear my plea!
End this war, just set me free.