Marching Song

In a wilderness of foggy thoughts
 Battling with your minds retorts
 And walking on empty plains
 Where deserts soak up
 Even drowning rains
 Soldier on
 To this marching song
 Head held high
 With eyes fixed strong
 Drum beat thud
 Cymbal crash down
 The mud, it is thick
 With desires to drown
 Your feet in earth
 Your boots are sinking
 Sink with the memories of long lost thinking
 And armies of many
 Are fighting their fight
 Lost in the blackness
 They're losing their sights
 Your veins are my trenches
 My gun is my own
 The whispers fall heavy
 With delicate moans
 Arms and legs
 Teeth and nail
 Our fragile companions
 Are destined to fail
 For this battalion
 Has been run through
 Therefore captains and comrades
 I bid you all adieu