Rust the Bullets with My Tears

I drop my gun to the ground, I can't be a part of the fighting anymore. My knees have grown weak, and I'm laying in the mud wishing it was over. I hear the screams around me, I feel the pain of a hundred dying men. This fight was never meant for them, they fall for nothing, nothing at all. If I could stand I would run away, but the battle has drained me of all my energy. I lay and think of my beloved, taken by the call I would never come home to her loving arms.
I would take a bullet in the heart, if only it would tear out the pain. I would take a bullet in my brain, if it would save me from these memories. The blood is wet on my hands, and the men I took it from tear at my sanity in a vengeful frenzy. I can't live with myself anymore, and I make my final stand. Without my gun, without any fear, I spread my arms wide and welcome whatever fate they hand to me this day.