• It was not too long ago.
    When Canadians were in Europe,
    Fighting with their souls.
    Blood spilling like syrup.

    For their homeland, they died
    While their friends and families cried.
    Broken by the loss of their brother,
    Father, uncle, son or any other.

    Every year we mourn.
    Every November 11th
    Every 11:00 a.m. morn'.
    Everyday that passes,
    Every year that goes by,
    It hurts the very minds
    Of those that paid the price.

    We respect those soldiers
    Their hearts, like warriors.
    Their lives, if not taken,
    Were corrupted, laden
    With images of hatred,
    Without intention of fading.

    Our fate may be concealed
    To one thing or another.
    But I know the soldiers who fought
    In that war way back.
    Changed our nation.
    And that's a fact.