War of the states

The days are long 

The nights are harsh 

Our feet feel just like lead 

The men are tired 

As wounded come in

Most of them are dead

We sit around the campfire 

And talk about our past

Missing our families 

Missing our friends 

And hope this war won't last

We lay inside our tents to sleep

The ground is wet and cold

We're dreaming of the lovely day

We'll go marching home

We go to battle in the morn

We March there all the way 

Hopping that afterwards we live another day 

When this war is over 

And many men have died

And the families of the lost

Have hung their heads and cried 

I'll be waiting at the front 

For all of those in pain

Just take my hand 

And we'll go home 

And you'll never cry again.