Old enough to kill,
Old enough to die,
Old enough to follow,
Never to find out why.

To hell and back again,
We will gladly go,
Travelling through the mists of war,
Searching for the foe.

How many have we lost?
How many more will die?
How many tears need to be shed,
To hide the bitter lie.

We battle in the desert,
We battle in the street,
We will gladly give our lives,
To the drumming of the beat.

Another whisper ended,
With the clapping of the crowd,
The cleansing rain falls down our cheeks,
And we now know we make you proud.