That thunder is crashing over our heads as we walk on.
Our lives are tumbling before us like that of a wild water fall.
The wind is sailing past us and is carrying our passion.
Our soldiers are standing as tap and proud as could be as hound they are waiting the the lightning to strike.
Our whispers are carrying the hopes of many while the roaring river is screaming our desires.
The sound of our march is nearly irreplaceable but yet all we feel is the rain pouring down on us.
we fought for a reason, that isn't so clear to many, but we always manage to stumble back and start again.
Our eyes were shining with a deep determination, and a hopeful prayer to the skies above that we would one day return home.
The marching has stopped. We stand at attention, and we realize what this has done to us.
Our wishes are coming true, but now what is left for us?
The song in our hearts have ended. The beat is slow and dark, with the clouds coming in and the silence booming.
The things that hurt the most, are not known to me and now I realize that I'm no longer here.
My time has ended, my thoughts are no more, and actions have been noted.
my journey is complete and I know that stifling silence is for me. That slow beating drum is that of my comrades, and all the while I'm slipping away wondering whats going to happen next, and what will become of me