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In a wilderness of foggy thoughts |
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Battling with your minds retorts |
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And walking on empty plains |
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Where desert's so calm even drowning rains |
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Soldier on to this marching song |
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Head held high with eyes fixed strong |
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Drum beat died, cymbal crash down |
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The mud, it is thick with desires to drown |
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Your feet's in earth, your boots are sinking |
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Sink with the memories of long lost thinking |
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And armies of many are fighting their fights |
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Lost in the blackness, they're losing their sights |
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Your veins are my trenches, my gun is my own |
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The whispers fall heavy with delicate moans |
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Arms and legs, teeth and nail |
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Our fragile companions are destined to fail |
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For this battalion has been run through |
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Therefore, captains and comrades, |
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I bid you all adieu |
