I’ve got to keep walking on the hot sand
The hot metal of my gun burning my hand.
The sand whips around my face,
There’s a horrible metallic taste
Of blood in my mouth.
Then the soldiers try their best,
There’s a bullet in their chest.
I’ve got to help them move around,
So the sand doesn’t bury them in the ground.
I’ve got to make it through,
I have a family I have to see to.
Then see another life taken away,
And their lovers will never see them another day.

Sand, fear, tortured death.
Bullets, hate, guns and death.
Guns shot, painful memories.

You’re all that I can call my own,
This war keeps going on.