They could have
Lived quietly
They all looked alike
They were a dirty mass
Stinking
Undifferentiated
They're screwed
And they know it
Soldiers among soldiers
Life had never
Seemed less real
The scythe of death
Plant his scepter
Upon a hill of corpses
The devil was
Hunting bipeds
Clenching his claws
To smell out blood
And blood repairs nothing
The sun was setting
In an orgy of gore
Inflexible routine
Of barracks
Life
The scythe of death
Plant his scepter
Upon a hill of corpses
The devil was
Hunting bipeds
Clenching his claws
To smell out blood
And blood repairs nothing
The sun was setting
In an orgy of gore
Inflexible routine
Of barracks
Life
The ground is burning
And they don't understand anything but blows
Crushed under the caterpillar tracks
Condemned to be flayed alive
And they saw the reflected image
Of their collective hysteria
Trapped in their illusion of freedom
They were leaving the cold bodies
In search of new hosts
Their true nature has being revealed
Madness to vegetate a few more instants
Right into the
Sanctuary of the dead
It's the law of our life
The permanent war against all
Crushed under the caterpillar tracks
Condemned to be flayed alive
And they saw the reflected image
Of their collective hysteria
