forgotten are the causes of the brave who stood to die
long lost are their loved ones who heard their final cry
of love or hate, whether right or wrong, a lasting lament or a rousing song
they are but dust now one and all, the old, the bold, the meek and strong
the passion that those souls once felt, has all but gone from here
before us now the lamest heroes, dimmer, more similar by the year
but the times are always changing and yet history will repeat
and who will follow the footsteps, of those wilder, surer feet?