I see black clouds in the sky
A storm is coming, its not safe to go outside.
The rivers boil and dirt stains red,
The Cowards leave, the cowards fled.
The time is now, to stand and fight,
Hold your ground, hands still and sleight.
Take your aim, don’t let it waiver,
Fortune the bold and brave does favour.
The good die young, but some grow old.
Whichever I become; my story told.
I won’t be left a lamb to the slaughter.
And I will fight Come hell or High Water…
The battle raged, the battle stormed,
Blood runs cold and bodies torn.
The soldiers fall into a stack,
As those who remain start the next attack.
Drums they sound and beat like thunder,
Ranks they split and break asunder.
The trooper runs, bayonet held high,
Death marches closer within each stride.
The good die young, but some grow old.
Whichever I become; my story told.
I won’t be left a lamb to the slaughter.
And I will fight Come hell or High Water…
-Heavy Guitar/Drums-
The smoke it clears, and leaves behind,
Thousands of dead for scavengers to feast and find.
The trumpet sounds into the air,
It signals loss and despair.
War is hell and what remains,
once its done and patriotism wanes?
What is one life worth, what does it cost?
To sell your soul for greed and lust.
The good die young, but some grow old.
Whichever I become; my story told.
I won’t be left a lamb to the slaughter.
And I will fight Come hell or High Water…