Not every soldier gets a song. Not every life will be remembered. Though the night it may seem long, I know the brightness comes September. My friends they gave their lives that fall. They made an oath and duty rendered. They all gave some, and some gave all. Their strength was spent on one September. The bells and whistles called their ears. Their boots were strapped and outfits slender. The ringing screaming speaks of fears: Ones not heard since last September. Two thousand lives were lost that day Of which I hardly can’t remember. I see darkness when I pray Though through the brightness comes September.