Submerged in these trenches
I cry out for some answer
The death of my father
What good did it do?
Will it save a hundred mens lives?
Though it surely destroyed mine
Is this some kind of sick payment?
What good will it do?
Is our victory ensured
Sealed with the blood from his wounds?
No, the battle's not turned.
So what good did it do?
Many others have died
The living bear the great pain
From the thought they survived
Yet no good did it do.
