Crimson slope

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And there, upon that crimson slope,
did I see.
Young lions emerge
from the bodies of sheep.
Amongst the dead and the dying,
swords thick and arrows flying,
there, upon that slippery crimson slope,
did I see, Gods made from men
in a place that looked like hell.
How many a young eye's
ferverent dream was stilled
never again to see or be seen.
Yet, they charged up
that crimson slope,
yelling a common scream.
Let me live! For a few moments
of glory, however fleeting.
Let me feel my heart beat,
let me give all I have here,
let me live, if only in the songs
of my fellow soldiers, once a year
in a dirty tavern over dirty glasses.
Let me live as a God of war emerged
from this sheep's skin I have worn.
Let them tell how I fought as we charged
up that slippery, crimson, slope.

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