We all are in a warzone,

And the enemy is closing in,

Surrounding us with armies,

But we aren't done with him.

This is war, and it's not fun,

But the battle's just begun,

Our enemy has fought since old,

In this battlefield of the soul.

 

Sing the warcry! Beat the drums! 

Draw your weapons, the hour's at hand,

Silence! Here our Commander comes,

Riding a horse with muscle iron-bands.

This is war, and it's not fun,

For you, for me, for anyone,

Our enemy rides a chariot of gold,

In this battlefield of the soul.

 

Arm yourselves! With sword or bow,

And never set your shield aside,

Step and let the General through,

His strength always matches His stride.

This is war, and it's not fun,

It rises with the setting sun,

Our enemy demands a handsome toll,

In this battlefield of the soul.

 

We run and charge and huff and bleed,

As warriors who will never die,

But in our mission we succeed,

If we stand strong with heads held high.

This is war, and it's not fun,

But at some point we'll be done,

Our enemy will perish, 'tis our goal,

In this battlefield of the soul.

 

Someday, our grave might be this field,

Or down by the stream where we drink.

But our spirits will live, since we all yield,

To a Power beyond what we could think.

That was before this battle began,

Before the army commanded by man,

Long before humans began to be bold,

In this dark, but hopeful, battlefield of the soul.