Behind Enemy Lines

​It's harder to move behind enemy lines;
The "Truth!" and "Freedom!" that were cried at the front
Now are but whispers, and no glory shines
A light by which we outcasts may hunt.
 
Are you counting your bullets? Do we have many left?
Do we still know the targets for which we'd aim?
Are we still the world's hope, still so winsome, and deft,
Or are we counted among the defective and lame?
 
I don't have regrets; we've all done what we must,
Drawn out from our dreams by our hunger and duty.
We all take what we're given, we reap from the dust
Our tale of heartaches, battles, and beauty.
 
Tell yours again as we map out the mines
Where we can find them, and shoulder the brunt
Of our hunger and worry, for no glory shines
A light by which we outcasts may hunt.