To kill a man is to crush a dream

To crush a dream, to secure your own

And though foreign blood burns like a sickness

Killing that man will get you home

So thrust the bayonet through his chest

Pray he dies a painless death

He's no better, you're no worse

But only the survivor will come in first

How can you sit there

Wading in your lies?

Does it make you smile

To see them die?

Their blood is on your hands

But you like the look of red

To kill a man, a horrible thought

Cast his blood upon the battered stone

Feel the burning, as he drives the blade

And know your death will get him home

Your body's given to the ground

Another name upon a stone

But in the sea of likewise crosses

Your tragic life will never be found

Their blood is on your hands

But you like the look of red

Their blood courses through your veins

The only difference between you and the dead