Scarred Rifle in the hands, Of common man on foreign fields. Explosions bloom amok, He seeks out a shield. We dream of home, Stuck in this hole. We dream of home, Stuck in the sights...we are scarred. Hear the signal and over the top, They're going to capture a trench. Bodies fill No Man's Land, They cannot stand the stench. We dream of home, Stuck in this hole. We dream of home, Stuck in the sights...we are scarred. Night soon falls, The enemy is sleeping. Bayonets become slick with blood, I picture their loved ones weeping. We dream of home , Stuck in this hole. We dream of home, Stuck in the sights...we are scarred. We return to our front, In the same old trend. We slump against the firing step, When will this nightmare end? We dream of home, Stuck in this hole. We dream of home, Stuck in the sights...we are scarred. 1:18 PM I scribbled that down today after the moment of silence at 11 this morning. I know its not the best, but it was my way of recognizing those who gave our lives for the glorious country we live in. Later.