The Unquiet Zone

They seek us in this unquiet zone 
they chase us on from hole to hole 
They hunt us down like carrion crows 
they search us out like frightened moles 

This surely is a dreadful war 
An awful waste of guts and gore 
An awful waste of human life 
This senseless, bloody, bitter strife 

We huddled close against the ground 
scared to make the slightest sound 
And all around the great guns boom 
The constant march of pending doom