Fields Of Stone
One day out of three hundred and sixty-five days.
That makes up a single year.
We gather in fields of stone to honor those that lie in
blissful sleep.
Forever trapped within their youth.
Dressed in their uniforms of green grass.
Dawning their helmets with plums of white crosses.
In fields of stone
Where rank hold no meaning, and honor is everything.
Where mortal men answered their countries call.
Now they lay in silent rest never to be awaken
In fields of stone
Where they are soldiers no more.
That now lies in blissful sleep.
Inscribe on each stone one simple phrase
Well done the good and faithful servant.
Now rest peacefully.
In fields of stone
jackie compton
