The trumpets of remembrance call to me

from their deep and dark slumber,

they arise,

calling out to anyone

who cares to hear

their lonely desperate song

falling upon deaf ears,

like seeds upon dry ground,

the song refuses to sprout

and like a melancholy sound,

it rings

with no music, no song

the orchestra continues.

A lifeless sing-along,

with the souls of men as the beat

and the memories of the lost blaring

and the overwhelming heat

on the battleground where the rain patters

feet batter

the overused, blood corroded ground,

crying out in distress,

but no-one hears it's song

no-one but dead souls to sing-along

to the ringing of the bell.

Ding dong.

death count: 1

death count 100

But the ringing of the bells,

falling upon deaf ears

are they deaf or dead?

No one knows.

and like a melancholy sound,

it rings

with no music, no song

the orchestra continues.

A lifeless sing-along

with the souls of men as the beat

and the memories of the lost blaring

and the overwhelming heat

on the battleground where the rain patters

feet batter

blood spatters

lives matter

but do they?