Just a march in a golden field
With a drummer's beat that wouldn't yield
Brazen lads though forged of steel
Their innocence would be revealed

Silhouettes of faceless names to blame
While echoed voices off The Wall remain

They marched alone but rose as one
Many known as forgotten sons
Years to suffer the pain and grief
Tell me! Who's the reaper; who's the thief?
Carved in stone a hero's call,
And a reminder to us all.