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Pick up your gear

Get in the line

Stifle your fear

Soon it’s the time

The sun will rise

Vehicles are packed

We will ride

Go for attack

Cogs in the wheel

Oil for machine

Grinding steel

Cocked and loaded

Ready to roll

Now the day is fucking ours!

Artillery gives the first blow

Shrapnel cuts through flesh and bone

Running toward their positions

A battle with the tunnel vision

Smell of death is all around

Stench of spilled guts and blood

Bodies maimed by steel and fire

Booby traps and barbed wire

Making our way through the trenches

Through this maze that is endless

Shooting everything that moves

Not asking questions that’s the rule

Spending rounds into the dugouts

Blindly firing around the corners

No prisoners and no quarter

Someone’s screaming: “Help, Mother!”

Cutting, slashing, shooting, killing

Let our leaders do the thinking

We are not the ones to blame

It’s us or them, name of the game

One more trench and then we’re done

Suddenly I see the sun

Massive bleeding from my neck

This sandy berm my deathbed

Now let me die in peace…