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La mort est Glorieuse!
I once knew a boy,
Care free as he could be,
Who turned into a man
Only to be consumed by the land.
He sung with high zest, the old lie
In which all men jest,
La mort est Glorieuse!
So the soldier boy continued on,
Late into the summer,
Greeted by his future comrades;
Ready to fight?
Read to give everything up?
Oh what a bummer,
But the boy did not fret
For he has the old lie,
For he was ready to die,
And whispered the words
La mort est Glorieuse!
And so the boy,
The one who was care free,
Who dreamed of catching Koi
Who met the old lie,
And was ready to die,
Who met the bare fate,
Oh, with so much hate,
Planted on the ground,
And uttered the simple sound,
Before his eternal rest,
No longer with such high zest,
La mort est Glorieuse!
