I've seen war I've been to Hell,
With human parts that looked liked gel,
and some things I could not tell,
that makes me not feel very well.
Until I say my last farewell,
or God does ring my final bell.
They'll be trapped within my mortal shell,
inside my mind where the pain does swell.
I scream and cry and laugh and yell,
from the ward or from my cell.
It's like I'm under some one's spell,
and into their grips I have fell.
There's no reason to rebel,
this is my pain in which to dwell.
That holds no way to dispel.
