Since childhood we’ve walked through a field full of mines,
The blasts tear our parts as the explosives blow,
But pain is forgotten, we’re numb to the signs,
Forgotten our past and the people we grow.

We once believed truly in Father Christmas,
We cherished true love and forgave every lie,
A surgeon in theatre, under anesthesia,
Cut off our naivety so we won't die.

Bone splinters push out through the skin like a blade,
The dream to explore the deep space and the stars,
Necrosis is halted, the agony fades,
We march to a wealthy, calm future with scars.

And yet, once again, a tripwire is torn,
We’ve nothing to trust and no reason to care
For fairy-tale magic or wonders once born,
And these are just first of the losses we bear.

We lose our own selves and we lose one another,
From very first insult to first quiet grave,
The wires are tight and we heavy steps smother,
Why be surprised? Split apart, we behave.

No time to lament or to weep for our dead,
We rip off the bandages, raw to the bone,
We march through coarse weeds with a heavy, grim tread,
Across the whole minefield, afraid and alone.