I write this in "18"
The sky is red and the gas is burning yellow
The daisy cutters fly
My feet are rotting, the trench is just mean and wet
I wish I was home
I was talking to a friend for a minute
In a second he lay dead, still and silent on the ground
I swear he never knew what hit him
He was telling me of a girl and getting married as soon as he was home

Home across the ocean
Too late for everything

I keep myself alive and awake
By sharing my flask of whisky and rum
I never drank much before
But I picked up some habits that I never had at home

Home across the ocean
Too late for everything

Home...
Too late...

100 Abdullah Egyptians
...a treasure I had found
By the body of a fallen soldier
He won't be needing them
I smoke them in silence and dream of being home