When the sun sinks slowly down
melting into a red pool
are you satisfied with what you’ve done
have you given just the best
and would your work pass this test
At night then
we run thru the halls of our fame
but the fame is long gone
try to grab the sword
but the iron burns signs of disgrace
into your flesh
the incapability of mediocricity
will rule your remaining life
and when did the sword start to become a knife ?
If you show fear
no one will protect you
so hide away those trembling hands
treacherous signs of weakness
the enemy won’t show any mercy.
At day then
we run on the battlefield
wading thru blood and bones
hear the echo of pain and death
a symphony of agony:
I’m dying, I’m dying, I’m dying tonight.
We are dying, we are dying, we are dying
in this fight.