Dirt In The Snow Poem by Mark Heathcote

Battalion armies grow and grow,
There is dirt in the snow we throw,
What was pure is now like a heavy baton.
We are forever passing on,
Generation after generation,

On and on, it's a battle to remain
Partially pure, partially strong,
Partially-balanced, partially-loving,
To have one or another good reason not to lie down and cry
To have one or another good reason not to lie down and die.

Battalion armies there growing and growing,
There are family borders heavily fortified
With always someone to throw that first stone
And destroy what you once cherished as your home.

There is dirt in the snow we throw,
What was once pure is now like a heavy baton.
We are forever passing on,
From generation to generation,
Seas of blood flow poisoned of any goodwill
Like a stone buried in snow, they hurt like hell
When they're wheeled in the direction they're meant to go.

Lord, what was pure is now like a heavy baton.
We are forever passing on,
Generation after generation,
On and on, it's a battle to remain
Partially pure, partially strong,
Partially-balanced, partially-loving,
To have one or another good reason not to lie down and cry
To have one or another good reason not to lie down and die.