remained

His hair so full of grease
Pass brown nicotine fingers stained
Lice bitten flesh and skin twitch
Under clothes blood and mud ingrained
Eyes red bloodshot straining
Looking out as trained
Nervous fingering of trigger
To fire shots never aimed
Behind always behind are officers
Whistles to lip orders proclaimed
Over the top time to attack
Another foot of territory gained
But he will not be moving on
His passing was ordained
Just a lad of seventeen
In Flanders muddy field’s remained