A battlefield barren,
Cannons quiet; abandoned
Matted yellow grass,
left with the imprint of artillery
The youth suited in uniform no more,
for this was the morning they wore out the war

Tents tattered and left standing
Muskets scattered,
as if to be spooked like horses,
in the same instant
Mothers gnawed on nails no more,
for this was the afternoon they wore out the war

Blood enriched the soil,
but no carcass remained to claim it
Deep trenches still saturated with supplies,
but no sturdy hands held shovels
General's roars reverberated no more,
for this was the evening they wore out the war

Drum sticks littered the land,
without any little lads to grasp them
Flags of opposition rippled with small gusts,
their symbolism discarded, no inspiration endured
Boats agitated serene creek water no more,
for this was the night they wore out the war

Money floated fiercely in tight circles,
yet no significance was instilled in them
The faces of powerless politicians,
amplified monotony with each bouncing bill
The country established new boundaries no more,
for this was the day they wore out the war