1918

Millions of men getting killed on the frontline Enemies everywhere hoping to shunt the line Forward in the fight in the north of France All the fallen soldiers took a chance At crawling out a trench, aiming a rifle At the other side nothing about it delightful Flu swept through and began to stifle Troops and their plight became even more frightful Limiting sickness holding back attempts Of getting closer to enemy tents Any single encounter in dugouts with dense Packed trenches make you vulnerable to an immense New threat floating in the air small drops Of coughed up killers anywhere no mops To clean up blood of those that took a shot Rats are feeding on the corpses that rot Every rank affected, nobody spared From the virus infecting, flowing through air Distress as doctors are pulling out their hair In the churches priests are hoping on a prayer That'll slow the fever from filling up more wards Slow the bleeding from inside lungs of warlords Every believer now sees we're just mortals Every dreamer's hoping that the war stalls Spain's declared their king has influenza Regiments retreat back to theirs ends A pandemic of proportion that you can't comprehend Sweeps across the globe day and night on a trend Up and up more numbers sick with skin Turning pale, blue, then bluer sinking A bit deeper with graves getting filled to the brim Not one for a body more like twenty plus a limb Out of action for days, exhausted for weeks Reactions to attack are aborted, retreats Of men have to happen, they're struggling to breathe Rations on calories, no one can leave The death trap, jam packed of artilleries Aimed at the next man that ran out and got sparked in a breeze Battlefield's burning there's no longer any trees Barbed wire bushes, you hear songs of peace Who ever thought flu would kill more than guns could Deepening wounds of the millions were stunned a Defeat in a fight or a defeat in a pandemic Would overwhelm troops or freak any medic Sheets laid on the floor become beds made quick It's the end of the war but it feels like this ain't it Fields in the north of France are thick Of poppies now it's not bullets killing the sick