Dark skies cover the Sun,
He pulls his weapon up and he's gone.
Running across the field,
Grenades flying over his head,
Falling on the dirty ground,
And when the noise stops
He rises above the dead
And never stops running.

"Good luck kid !"
The commander screams
To the young rookie
"Don't worry Sir, I was born lucky!"
He replies
And towards the dirty field he flies.

Bullets spread like steel flowers
And the blood of the ones that fell down
Is their water
He runs and he trips over the bodies
Laying on the ground
Searching for his teammate
But he's nowhere to be found.

A Machine gun screaming above his head,
Crouching to the cold ground
Screaming for help out loud.

Private Jonathan,
Age nineteen,
Towards his friend he leaned,
But he fell down in their trap,
Down in the dirt, shot in the back.

He climbs on the top of the tower
Watching the chaos turned into power,
Watching ribbons of red,
A firey ,deadly shower.
Cries for help that no one hears,
A star of David laying in the dirt.

Silence lasts only for a moment
Enemies coming from the North
Commander gives the order,
No matter what , they have to move forth
The ones left at home
In this moment someone left home a candle he lits
Milions of soldiers with the same heartbeats,
To justice they all pledge
In their hearts resting only the prayer to a Lord
And endless courage.

The young man with the dirty face
Leaves behind a silvery tag, his only trace,
Looking up into the sky
Whispering to the friend he says goodbye
As the wound gets deeper,
"It's like I'm looking trough a piece of glass,
It blurry,
Tell me , if God's with us ,then who's against us ? "
He whispers to the night's sky
As over the battlefield
The day's sky closes its eye.