The death of war

Time is flying, As we are dying
We are made to watch, As our friends are dying
Trying to sleep, All we hear is the blurring of guns
We are made to charge at them, And James got shot
We are still hoping to live but we probably won't  
We have lost almost half, We are still fighting to live
Bang, pow and splat, The sound of the guns are going
Big clouds of red and orange, Like a fire of death coming for us
 
The sounds of the gas attack sirens are all you hear, Having to put on that thick heavy mask
Hours later we are safe to have a breath of air, The feeling of the wind is nice
All you can see are your dead comrades, The smell of the rotting flesh hits your face
Unable to breathe as you think the air is filled with toxins, You look around and see you’re right  
What used to be filled of life and plants, Now contains death, It's starting to look like hell
What can we do but hope that this will end, All we want is to see our families again
We are still hoping to live but we probably won't
Everything has gone silent, All of a sudden, The sirens are going
The sky is filled with a mustard-colored cloud, I can hear people drowning in the poison gas
The screaming is following us in our dreams, As are life flashes before our eyes
Cleaning our guns like we don't care, knowing all of the dangers that come with it
 
Our mud and blood stained boots, Some of those who don’t live any longer
People are being sent back, With black disease covered legs
Some of those that do live, Have the black disease, like the walking dead
Were are living like pigs, Were trying to survive
Thoses with families will never see their kids again,Try to leave the war, And you die anyway
We are still hoping to live but probably won’t
Sound of hells guns ringing through your ears, As the background sounds is screams throughout
Seeing your comrades being killed in front of you, Is like hell itself, Unbearably hard to live and survive
I wish to see my soulmate at least once, That will never happen, I will probably die here
This will be my burial place, with no one from my family to see me
When you see everone being killed before you, is its own form of torture