Child at play, men at work, something of a soldier at war. The cry for freedom in his pocket. The lust for blood in his gun. Milestones of bare fields he must cross. As his fellow mates fall to death until he be the only one left. Hiding from his enemy, he shall be the only one to fight this war.Man at war, cry for some freedom, you unrecognized hero, your deathbed lie on some bare field. What are you fighting for? The freedom you deserve. Give up, you are only a prisoner at war.Child at play, men at work, something of a prisoner of war. No more freedom in his pocket, no more blood to give, no prisoner to be. As now he falls to death, with the last shot of bitter survival, some ones hero is free.