When sudden calls
echo in ears
of a thousand marching threats.
And beating drums
with wielding blades
come rumbling at the gates;

Clenching white
don't raise their arms
(with hopes crushed in fists),
nor pick the shovel
to dig the bed
for their dreams to rest in peace.

Many wars to brave
many lives to win
many lessons still to imbibe,

come glory, defeat
or what the hell may
the martyr must survive.

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