It is a play within a play, a story pleading to be told,
a day like any other day, but he lies bleeding in the cold.

He lies bleeding in the cold in a war to end all war,
an end to evil as we know it. His death will cut me to the core,

cut me to my very core, as once again we blow it. Soldier! Soldier!
What is it that you carry? When do we marry? Child! Child!

I carry death and sorrow. I marry you tomorrow. Soldier! Soldier!
Why do you tarry? What is it that you bury? Child! Child!

I tarry to compose my thoughts, store them in a wooden box, bury it beneath the earth,
and try to understand the worth of time I cannot borrow. With that the soldier turns away,

the soldier sadly turns away, tomorrow speeding to unfold,
a day like any other day, but he lies bleeding in the cold.

A day like every other day, a life so dearly sold,
a play within a bloody play, a story pleading to be told.