These days fall like rain washing away the blood
As it did on the beaches of Normandy 1944
Like gladiators we fight here; blood, sand and mud
Will Missio be given or the blades of our actions
Cut through our attractions and spill our guts
Whose feelings were the mistakes that led us here.
Do we wield our swords in hope, or anger, or fear?
Do you trust your judgment to make the final thrust?
Will it bring your mind the peace of spring
Or will a blizzard of winter descend on tomorrow
Might the end spell happiness or sorrow?
Can we move on and get back on track?
For in this arena, there is no coming back.
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