1918

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Multiversal Julez

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Millions of men getting killed on the frontline
Enemies everywhere hoping to shunt the line
Forward in the fight in the north of France
All the fallen soldiers took a chance
At crawling out a trench, aiming a rifle
At the other side nothing about it delightful
Flu swept through and began to stifle
Troops and their plight became even more frightful
Limiting sickness holding back attempts
Of getting closer to enemy tents
Any single encounter in dugouts with dense
Packed trenches make you vulnerable to an immense
New threat floating in the air small drops
Of coughed up killers anywhere no mops
To clean up blood of those that took a shot
Rats are feeding on the corpses that rot

Every rank affected, nobody spared
From the virus infecting, flowing through air
Distress as doctors are pulling out their hair
In the churches priests are hoping on a prayer
That'll slow the fever from filling up more wards
Slow the bleeding from inside lungs of warlords
Every believer now sees we're just mortals
Every dreamer's hoping that the war stalls
Spain's declared their king has influenza
Regiments retreat back to theirs ends
A pandemic of proportion that you can't comprehend
Sweeps across the globe day and night on a trend
Up and up more numbers sick with skin
Turning pale, blue , then bluer sinking
A bit deeper with graves getting filled to the brim
Not one for a body more like twenty plus a limb

Out of action for days, exhausted for weeks
Reactions to attack are aborted, retreats
Of men have to happen, they're struggling to breathe
Rations on calories , no one can leave
The death trap, jam packed of artilleries
Aimed at the next man that ran out and got sparked in a breeze
Battlefield's burning there's no longer any trees
Barbed wire bushes, you hear songs of peace
Who ever thought flu would kill more than guns could
Deepening wounds of the millions were stunned a
Defeat in a fight or a defeat in a pandemic
Would overwhelm troops or freak any medic
Sheets laid on the floor become beds made quick
It's the end of the war but it feels like this ain't it
Fields in the north of France are thick
Of poppies now it's not bullets killing the sick

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