here in the trenches the fist of the beast for fear of an atmosphere poisoned deceased with a gas mask to keep me from breathing my death it s american soil i hope for at best but the duty i serve can t begin to compare to my ancestors battles and wars through the years though the loneliness strikes like an enemy shell i pray for my home but still sit here in hell sail away to a place that s unknown taken away from my friends and my home to a place they call sacred a place i call hell i long for that corner i once knew so well go to the grind it s all that i have work on and on with nothing to show but a graying face in this dying place that s a lock in my solitude i think of a place on a faraway coast where friends are so dear and there s reason to toast a cloudy image of a middle east land comes down and wrecks my hopeful thoughts 