Blood on the Snow

No longer the land of the free,

But still land of the brave.

At least that's what I tell myself,

As we face the Union wave.

...

The winter snow is falling here,

And frigid is the night.

But this battle began earlier,

And we all continue fight.

...

Walkers tread upon the snow,

Fighters soar through the air.

The lines are surely crumbling,

We feel touch of despair.

...

Their troopers rush our trenches, foxholes,

Screams echo through the night.

Those who serve the Polity,

Know we're waging losing fight.

...

To the east, there is Atlantic.

To the west, the Rockies' peaks.

The latter's what we flee toward,

As order's given to retreat.

...

They hound us every step of way,

Relentless is our foe.

I hear wails, screams of dying men,

Left upon the bloody snow.

...

Burning smell upon the wind,

Like daggers, touch of frost.

And in the eyes of every trooper,

Knowledge of a war that's lost.