The life of a soldier is cheaper
than the bullet killing him.

The boots make a sucking noise when
being pull from the mud as the soldier walks,
the air is fouled by rotten human flesh
in a no man’s land where all flowers don’t
give that blotches of colors calling life
as told to be by the one most almighty God.

The boots make a sucking noise, like
the ones on mother’s breast by hungry boys,
but here it is only barbed wire on to fell
in a no man’s land where all men will sob,
because tears are cheaper than the bullets
that are killing the creatures made by God.

The boots make a sucking noise, the rain
will pour over the soldiers soul and not stop,
adding to the misery of long nights lookout
in a no man’s land of others men’s wars,
eternity is measured in short witches hours
the waiting time is always decided by God.

The boots don’t make a sucking noise, the
soldier’s isn’t walking on the mud anymore,
he will be perhaps a decorated War Veteran
in that no man’s land they are calling “home,”
a wounded soldier wouldn’t be that lucky,
if on the insanity over there, he was to be told,
“back home will be the start of your eternity…”
by his “countrymen”…but not by God.