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A child growing up to become a man|
Runs into battle, always a plan|
And he feels he's losing his mind|
Every fight demands another, gear to grind|
It all seems insane, a blitz of a fight|
As an enemy is conquered, he proves his might
He lays upon a hill of those shot and killed|
Some pass it off, some say he is skilled|
He wipes the sweat off his brow, the blood off his blade|
Time has passed and its been another day|
As he feels he is stronger, the journey is not at end|
He loads a gun and rushes in, patience low with wounds to mend|
As dusk turns to dawn he stops to rest|
Yet always more to do, to win, to beat and best|
His rest is short and his return is swift|
A guardian back to squander his gifts|