Upon a board of black and white,
soldiers shiver in winter snow.
We ready our rifles before the fight,
our silence splintered by stygian crow.
And so, and so, we make our move,
through frozen mud we march.
We trample over a dead white dove,
and then the order. Charge!
We run towards our untimely end,
never pausing for a moment’s breath.
Not sparing a second to defend,
we dash into the jaws of death.
So here I was broken, on the board,
Amid dead, departing at dawn,
Far, far away from a loving God,
an honest innocent pawn.