In the front line, in the trenches, in the light streaks of the crossfire.
There is a place to fight, as part of one's team.
Even if the bullets are hitting next to you, you must answer with courage.
Standing with your eyes closed, your gaze directed into the void
Paralyzed by terror . />A bullet in the stomach, a bullet in the chest, that's where the reward of escape.
Cap to the ground, a bullet in the neck, for the one who betrays his brother.
Stained by the blood of his team, he defends his life in the drumfire.
Fiercely wondering where to escape a replacement...
For a runaway selfish person, whose comrades will soon find out.
His former friends don't pat themselves on the back much.
A dishonorable traitor will be hunted down.
There is no rock to hide under to lie down.
Not a single one of that team is bloodthirsty
Leave to seek martial law for the renegade.
A bullet in the stomach, a bullet in the chest, that's where the reward of flight is.
Cap to the ground, bullet to the neck, to the one who takes his place .
The grinning image of a warrior runs behind the back of the lines.
Towards his home, under the hems of his shed.
That useless solitary crawls in the mud, gasping for breath.
His appearance reminds him of what he is inside.
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