For many whole days I've likened to death,
shot in the arm, the leg and the chest;
and laying on mud therein a ditch,
I've prayed for an end - to toss in my pitch;
but no-one's heard me - no-one's seen;
as I fight for death - to forget what's been.
I fight for death but she's taking her rest;
so I merely exist in my time of pain;
and I'll never die, I'll just exist,
I'll never move and I'll never stir,
for as long as mankind - I'll be always there.
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