Rockets are flying
Signal distress over no man's land
With hopes they are fading
Splutter and die in a leaden sky
The wounded resignation, the corpses on the wire
A frozen tableaux flickers in the light
Flares are falling
Chasing the shadows, nervous eyes
Huddled in silence
Hugging the earth, biding time
Motionless as spiders caught out on a k**ing floor
Muffled picks and shovels hold their still
Praying for the darkness to return and hide
The graves they are opening
The graves they are digging
A storm of fire and metal tears the wood asunder
Shatters stumps of scorched and splintered trees
Cowering in the mud within the roots, incessant thunder
Tormented shredded souls are torn apart
Deep beneath the surface the chalk yields to the chisels
Bloodied fingers tear the face away
Hollowing the chambers along the dark Stygian tunnels
Hooded candles light the spectres' way
Dragons crawl the ridges towards the spires on new horizons
Ploughing through the charnel pits and gore
The spawn of d**h's invention, a victory their burden
The promise stalls and wallows in the mire
High above the stage, a chorus of dark angels
A circus joins the theatre of war
The props are in position, the fuses primed and ready
The wires pulse the signal cue the mine exploding
The graves are opening
The dead they are rising
Fear-haunted faces, gaunt and grey
Ghosts are gathering
The Dance Macabre, the hellish fray
Heaven above, Thistle Alley below
Whistles are blowing
The maxims are waiting
To carve the flesh, shatter skulls and crush the bone
Guns stuttering, relentless rake the lines
The gas that whispers in the confines of the trenches
To choke the life of those who dare to hide
Heaven above, Thistle Alley below
Heaven above, Thistle Alley below
Motionless survivors, bloody on the k**ing floor
Praying for the darkness to return
Praying for the darkness to return
And hide the graves of the living