Lieutenant Colonel Powell knew just what he’d say
When the men came together to pray that day
So beautiful, blue, warm, and clear
It had been chosen to remember those they’d held dear
They were now weathered, frail, and grey
But never would they forget the men who lay
Now dead in Flanders Fields.
They’d gathered here many years ago
Assembled in uniform, they stood row by row,
Some wanted peace—others wanted more
More freedom, more independence, and more choice
They were willing to fight if it gave them a voice.
The boys felt lonely, anxious, and tired
And it felt worse with every shot fired.
The old men remembered when the colonel once said:
“We’re going to do our job and get out fast;
I promise you when we leave, I’ll be last.
So hold tight, boys—or should I say men—
It won’t be long till this war is at its end.
Soon you’ll be home, you’ll be with her.
Nothing lasts forever, that’s for sure.”
So in the end, both sides lost
The reasons I went were not worth the cost.
Today we have families; some others do not
We are alive, though we all fought.
We’ve tried to tell the world, war is in vain
I know for sure in my heart, it has no gain
We tell them, when all is said and done,
We have all been beaten, no side has won.
Have we done our job? Is the future secure?
Some things may last forever, can peace be for sure?