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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

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

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