A withered hand that works no more
A leathered face that’s been to war
Shriveled legs to weak to walk
A clouded mind
To confused to talk

In a chair with wheels he sits alone
And stares at the wall
In a room he calls home
Staring at pictures of another day
That adorn his walls
And seem to say

Remember when we walked as Gods
And feared no man
On the paths we trod
Our minds were quick and bodies strong
And eyes looked to us
To help the weak along
We fought the battles our country chose
And death was not for us
But for our foes

Now the times gone by and the days anew
Where he looks to others to help him through
He knows this life now
Holds nothing but the end
And looks not to death as evil
But merely as a friend

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