Brothers in Arms

In the bunker’s gloom, where shadows softly creep, A rusted crew prepares, their bond runs deep. Ultman speaks with pride, a tin can’s boastful tone, “I save the day, I grease the steel, I make the fight my own, At minus twenty-five, I keep the bolt alive, I smell like victory, in this war we strive.” Brothers in arms, we stand as one tonight, Through dirt and frost, we’ll carry on the fight. Rag sneers back, her voice a mocking thread, “You’re diesel stench, not glory, just a slick that’s overfed, They run to me to clean the grime, I’m what they need, Without my touch, you’re nothing but a useless bead.” Brothers in arms, we hold the line with might, Through scars and rust, we’ll carry on the fight. AK growls low, his bolt a creaking plea, “Enough, you two, you’re both my family, I jam without the oil, I rust without the rag, Together we’re the strength, the soldier’s final tag.” Brothers in arms, we rise with dawn’s first light, Through blood and steel, we’ll carry on the fight. The door swings wide, a voice calls out, “Let’s go!” “Brothers, we ride, to battle we grow.”