Under a blanket of comfortless stars we wait
Sinking into the earth as if we are being reborn
Into a land of infinite darkness
Full of Engines without souls.
A million marching men have marched on to death
In a godless world where violence holds the crown
And time is measured in paces.
On some scarred slope
We will catch nine bullets in three paces' time.
Caked in mud we lie
Sinking further each minute
Hoping to see a winged shadow in the clouds.
We kill and we kill
To appease a god that does not listen
In hopes that tomorrow our blood will not glisten.