revolution Surfer

An unknown battle for an unknown cause

Along the heated plain of rage the brave are ready to die
Their banner unfurled and silently sways the sun blinds their eyes
An image of a warrior born comes growling over that plain
The defenders fear but stand their ground and death rakes through their lines

A battle toiled …
a broken flank…
a valiant few remain….
but not a slogan covers the shameful crimson stain.

voices on the wisp of wind where once defenders stood
Longing wails of sorrow, anger, and disdain

At home a story told of a banner still unfurled…
the priceless image of valor earned through tireless toil and pain
But the valiant few whose voices were not carried on the wind
still ponder if the price was worth the gain

And along the heated plain …the rage still remains…