In the fields of Flanders
You left something behind
When the soldier returned
Others left in the ground
The echo returns
Now back on home soil
At peace with the family
But you still hear the sounds.
Of the dead and the dying
Poison gas and the shells
Men torn apart
The sweet chapel bells
And a sermon for heroes
By a chaplain who blessed
Each instrument of death
In a diary is kept.
Your wife doesnt see
Why you are quiet, afar
Your soul still in Flanders
Your mind bears the scar
Of futility and destruction
So many young lives lost
Left in pages of history
While you count the cost.