It’s cold now, much colder than before,
He can’t feel his hands, there’s blood on the floor,
George has gone, gone somewhere warm,
He told him about Ruth and her work uniform.
Told him about Mary, the love of his life,
How he missed one last day with his beautiful wife.
All for what? Not for hate, not for more,
Not for generations who think the answer is war.
He’s alone, he’s scared and now he can’t fight,
It’s getting warmer and he knows this is his night.
He looks to the sky knowing his fate,
Prays for the day when love conquers hate.
We will remember them.