Notes: I wrote this while procrastinating about writing the next chapter of Texas Floods. The poem's no good, but I don't really care.

What's the price on a soldier's head:
Are they worth more alive,
Or are they better off bled?

But you and I, we shall dance,
Dance the song of brass lead.

Are we all simply ploys,
For the greater big Red?

Or will you be here,
With me,
For the names of the dead?