Repetition, Repetition, Repetition.

In a light skirmish the infantry men all fell,
From both sides not a single man resumed the life he had before,
They lay their with the weapons at their sides or inside another,
Blood made a pool about their corpses,
And the smell of gun powder and fear was high in the air,
As as the sun set, and then rose again,
No one cared to carry any of them away,
None of them were buried, and none of them were burned,
Except by the scorching rays of a frightening summer sun.

Back home their wives and their children assumed the worst,
But they never sought out their husbands and their fathers,
And years would pass and they'd always wonder whatever happened,
It was either MIA or KIA, and they never asked much more.

In a bright sacred light the infantry men all rose,
Above to heaven not a single man wasn't ressurected,
Into a bright white heaven with their brothers at their sides,
And their enemies too, with no blood and no wounds,
A scent of roses and daisies blanketed them in its sweet cologne,
And each man was wearing pearly white robes,
And when God the father greeted each man,
He wrapped his loving arms around them,
And called each of them brother.

Back home their sons and their daughters, and their re-married wives,
All pondered the lost, forgotten and gone,
But no more tears were shed, the men were long ago memories,
Bittersweet, and happy, or down right hellish thoughts,
A cornucopia of emotion on their fractured minds,
And when the women passed away, their new loves, and their children would follow soon.

In that broken silent night the infantry men all rested,
And when their spouses and offspring arrived they were over joyed,
It seemed like only yesterday that they were stabbed, shot or beatin,
And their loves never aged a day.
In each man, woman and childs eyes they saw each other in the ways they remembered,
And a new earth began in here,
And God went up one more floor,
Where he would meet the next bloody mess,
With open arms.