Patriot


The land is bare, the snow falls hard
Chill is in the air, but they bother him not
Many fall wounded, many lie still
Death draws nearer, but they scare him not
His heart flutters, his eyes burn
His hands work and the gun fires
Out of the blue a bullet speeds
Piercing the air and in to his eyes
Back he falls shooting madly and
As the world darkens his face brightens
With moments left his heart full of emotions
He cries proudly VANDE MATARAM