I cast my mind back.
While the dark moods on me.
To days of yore,
Snot blood and thunder,
And of the brave men,
We left behind.

On stormy nights,
As the lightning crashes,
When the wind and rain smashes down.
Brave men cry when the thunder roars.
And all the while,
The dead lay asleep in their beds.

The air takes a chill,
Though alcohol burns as it goes down
It fails to warm my soul.
What I see in my mind’s eye,
Are the rows of muddy soles,
All along that line of dead