Paschendale

                                  In a foreign field he lay 

Lonely soldier, unknown grave 

On his dying words he prays 

Tell the world of Paschendale 



Relive all that he's been through 

Last communion of his soul 

Rust your bullets with his tears 

Let me tell you 'bout his years 



Laying low in a blood filled trench 

Kill Tim 'til my very own death 

On my face I can feel the falling rain 

Never see my friends again 



In the smoke, in the mud and lead 

Smell the fear and the feeling of dread 

Soon be time to go over the wall 

Rapid fire and the end of us all 



Whistles, shouts and more gun fire 

Lifeless bodies hang on barbed wire 

Battlefield nothing but a bloody tomb 

Be reunited with my dead friends soon 



Many soldiers eighteen years 

Drown in mud, no more tears 

Surely a war no-one can win 

Killing time about to begin 



Home, far away 

From the war, a chance to live again 

Home, far away 

But the war, no chance to live again 



The bodies of ours and our foes 

The sea of death it overflows 

In no man's land, God only knows 

Into jaws of death we go 



Crucified as if on a cross 

Allied troops they mourn their loss 

German war propaganda machine 

Such before has never been seen 



Swear I heard the angels cry 

Pray to god no more may die 

So that people know the truth 

Tell the tale of Paschendale 



Cruelty has a human heart 

Every man does play his part 

Terror of the men we kill 

The human heart is hungry still 



I stand my ground for the very last time 

Gun is ready as I stand in line 

Nervous wait for the whistle to blow 

Rush of blood and over we go 



Blood is falling like the rain 

Its crimson cloak unveils again 

The sound of guns can't hide their shame 

And so we die on Paschendale 



Dodging shrapnel and barbed wire 

Running straight at the cannon fire 

Running blind as I hold my breath 

Say a prayer symphony of death 



As we charge the enemy lines 

A burst of fire and we go down 

I choke a cry but no-one hears 

Fell the blood go down my throat 



Home, far away 

From the war, a chance to live again 

Home, far away 

But the war, no chance to live again 



See my spirit on the wind 

Across the lines, beyond the hill 

Friend and foe will meet again 

Those who died at Paschendale