Mother with him at the station
Best bonnet and fine dress
A picnic basket for the journey
Unaware his approaching death.
Fond farewell a Summer sky
To her only son
Seventeen years of age
1914 ..the hell begun.
She doesnt understand war
Only what she reads in the press
Or the propoganda of government
The odd opinion more or less
There is a meat grinder abroad
That demands and devours young flesh
Regardless of the tragedy
Broken hearts or the mess
Thats left behind to scar
Broken bodies lifeless limbs
Flickering in the past
Upon the Summer mist.