The quest so pure,
The feelings so true,
Searching for an unknown soldier,
Who lives only through you
But sometimes,
Moss grows thick on a rolling stone,
And the unknown soldier,
Becomes your existence
Your thoughts and actions,
Become theirs,
And the unknown soldier,
Becomes you
Your quest has now been quenched,
Leaving your true search empty,
Which can only be filled by one,
Who, like the unknown soldier, is never found
