WCCC

A child growing up to become a man| Runs into battle, always a plan| And he feels he's losing his mind| Every fight demands another, gear to grind| It all seems insane, a blitz of a fight| As an enemy is conquered, he proves his might He lays upon a hill of those shot and killed| Some pass it off, some say he is skilled| He wipes the sweat off his brow, the blood off his blade| Time has passed and its been another day| As he feels he is stronger, the journey is not at end| He loads a gun and rushes in, patience low with wounds to mend| As dusk turns to dawn he stops to rest| Yet always more to do, to win, to beat and best| His rest is short and his return is swift| A guardian back to squander his gifts|