In a foreign field he layLonely soldier unkown graveOn his dying words he praysTell the world of PaschendaleRelief all that he's been throughLast communioun of his soulRust your bullets with his tearsLet me tell you 'bout his yearsLaying low in a blood filled trenchKill until my very own deathOn my face I can feel the falling rainNever see my friends againIn the smoke in the mud and leadSmell the fear and the feeling of dreadSoon be time to go over the wallRapid fire and the end of us allWhistles, shouts and more gun fireLifeless bodies hang on barbed wireBattlefield nothing but a bloody tombBe reunited with my dead friends soonMany soldiers eighteen yearsDrown in mud no more tearsSurely a war no-one can winKilling time about to beginHome, far awayFrom the war, a chance to live againHome, far awayBut the war, no chance to live againThe bodies of ours and our foesThe sea of death it overflowsIn no man's land god only knowsInto jaws of death we goCrucified as if on a crossAllied troops they mourn their lossGerman war propaganda machineSuch before has never been seenSwear I heard the angels cryGod demand no more may dieSo that people know the truthTell the tale of PaschendaleCruelty has a human heartEvery man does play his partTerror of the men we killThe human heart is hungry stillI stand my ground for the very last timeGun is ready as I stand in lineNervous wait for the whistle to blowRush of blood and over we goBlood is falling like the rainIt's crimson cloak unveils againThe sound of guns can't hide their shameAnd so we die on PaschendaleDodging shrapnel and barbed wireRunning straight at the cannon fireRunning blind as I hold my breathSay a prayer symphony of deathAs we charge the enemy linesA burst of fire and we go downI choke a cry but no-one hearsFell the blood go down my throatHome, far awayFrom the war, a chance to live againHome, far awayBut the war, no chance to live againHome, far awayFrom the war, a chance to live againHome, far awayBut the war, no chance to live againSee my spirit on the windAcross the lines beyond the hillFriend and foe will meet againThose who died at Paschendale
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