Unsung Melodies
There was a song that existed that was sung by the heroes of the old times. The melody was uplifting yet sad, the lyrics were beautiful yet distasteful all at the same time.
A grown man would sing it and cry.
This tune has been long forgotten - it died with those defending us, God bless them.
Yet that fateful day in the trenches when I went walking by myself, rusty knife in hand into the forest, I found some old pieces of paper scattered. It took me five minutes to piece them together.
The top of the paper read Wounded Soldier Stance. World, War - 1, 0.
As I read through its contents, I felt a saddness in me and I wept.
Coming back to the trenches I knew what I had to do - expose it to the film crew so they could shoot the best damned World War 1 film ever. For our heroes!
So I approached the man leading the troops - Director Bob. He'd know what to do.
It was then I found with this paper also came a curse. The curse of the 'not being cool enough to listen to'
Every time I went to read it to him, he seemed somewhat distracted and walked away from me while I was in mid-sentence.
My attempts were futile, yet I persisted. For the boys. I'd do it for them.
Two attempts were made until my pride was shattered and I gave up. Sorry heroes, but I just can't do this. Find another to save your souls. I'm not the one.
My eyes falling downwards to the loosened soil, despairing, I didn't even notice the paper fall from my hand to be blown off to the wind.
I'm sorry, war souls. I tried.
Though the paper is gone, the lyrics will always remain within me.
Sometimes I sing it to myself with my hand to my heart...
I got twenty different dog tags
Cause all my friends are in body bags
I can't remember anything
Can't tell if this is true or dream
I'm the one who wants to be with you
Deep inside our hope you'll feel it too
*sniff
God rest ye
A grown man would sing it and cry.
This tune has been long forgotten - it died with those defending us, God bless them.
Yet that fateful day in the trenches when I went walking by myself, rusty knife in hand into the forest, I found some old pieces of paper scattered. It took me five minutes to piece them together.
The top of the paper read Wounded Soldier Stance. World, War - 1, 0.
As I read through its contents, I felt a saddness in me and I wept.
Coming back to the trenches I knew what I had to do - expose it to the film crew so they could shoot the best damned World War 1 film ever. For our heroes!
So I approached the man leading the troops - Director Bob. He'd know what to do.
It was then I found with this paper also came a curse. The curse of the 'not being cool enough to listen to'
Every time I went to read it to him, he seemed somewhat distracted and walked away from me while I was in mid-sentence.
My attempts were futile, yet I persisted. For the boys. I'd do it for them.
Two attempts were made until my pride was shattered and I gave up. Sorry heroes, but I just can't do this. Find another to save your souls. I'm not the one.
My eyes falling downwards to the loosened soil, despairing, I didn't even notice the paper fall from my hand to be blown off to the wind.
I'm sorry, war souls. I tried.
Though the paper is gone, the lyrics will always remain within me.
Sometimes I sing it to myself with my hand to my heart...
I got twenty different dog tags
Cause all my friends are in body bags
I can't remember anything
Can't tell if this is true or dream
I'm the one who wants to be with you
Deep inside our hope you'll feel it too
*sniff
God rest ye
