Marching Song کے بول

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