Rest your head.....alone tonight, Wail aloud into the night, He is not, coming home
Trumpets and sirens, echo our misfortune, Laid upon your feet, is an empty helmet
It speaks no cunning phrases of calamity, But paints on canvas, A hell you have inherited
Rest your head......alone tonight, Wail aloud into the night, He is not, coming home

*Inter-transmission being punched through, Admiral!, It's our boys! The Dogs Of War!
*Patch it through son, Hello? Sergeant Baxton? Do you read? Does anybody out there hear me?

"Sire, It's me Sergeant. Baxton, Sire s*** got real bad over here, 291 casualties adorn the eastern fleet and some of our men have gone rouge sire! It's a bloody f***ing nightmare! 187 casualties reign our northern fleets! This is madness sir!e We're running low on supplies, Running out of ammo, Food is low and what we have is either moldy or stale sire! We need assistance and support because the renegade squads are M.I.A and some of our most valued soldiers are A.W.O.L! Please sire send...........Wait, what the f*** is that? Hello? Is that you Whitaker? Hey! *screams are head, transmisson ends*