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We die here at last, the ground of a blast Shall suit us as graves and the battlefield chosen. All Petersburg shakes, so high are the stakes, Two armies are clashing, so close now to Richmond. No room here to breath, no time here to grief, There’s dust in the air and it’s arid and blinding. Ulysses S. Grant, had but one demand, That we make a breakthrough and that they are falling. The Blue and the Gray, in trenches we fray, But trapped here below we’re just powerless targets. The slaughter unveils, the gunfire hails And death from above is the horror we’re facing. A pitiful sight, cut down is our might And after it’s over we’re buried and beaten. Too high was the cost, the Union has lost, But others go on and secure what we’re seeking.

I. Gods of War Finally, the war is turning As the high point has been reached. Gettysburg is torn and burning After Union soil was breached. Tens of thousands get their orders, Gods and generals await, Standing on the city borders, To decide the Nation’s fate. Fray ensues between the factions, Many days it will go on. Lee’s and Meade’s and Longstreet’s actions Will bring forth a brand new dawn. In the woods the lines are solid, Carolinians attack. As the battle’s getting squalid, Iron Black Hats hold them back. On the Round Top, Maine is fighting Down the slope and hand to hand. No more ammo, blades are biting, Chamberlain has made a stand. II. Battle Hymns and Killing Fields Guns are blazing, men are dying, Blue and Gray fall side by side. Shot and wounded sons are crying, Troops get murdered in their stride. As they fall, the men are praying, Cut like cattle in their prime. Earth turns red and skies are graying As assaults are crushed in grime. Drummers play the tunes of