His skin is white as the snow that in he lays
No more to sing and speak of the old and happy days
My buddie, a kid I used to know, his life
is departed, his temple blood -- laying in the snow.
"It's liberty you're fighting for and a heavy price you'll pay
A price of death, hunger and grief."

A heavy price to pay you say?
"Yes, a heavy price, an enormous price
of which many boys were slain."
But I pray to God with all my heart -- 
that their lives were not in vain.

While millions slept, drank, and ate
As is all people in the world I know
Except one mother, the mother of this boy
Who lies so still and quiet, before me in the snow
Can people see, feel, or conceive the futility and the gore
the grief, sorrow, and misery that comes with manmade war.

Yes!  You'll hear it a million times, from now
till that day you die.
A little word so meaningless
A word spoken questioningly.   Why?


A true story - Written by 
Joseph Vosbikian