The Dusk Draws Near

Falling leaves like a broken dream
dying soldier and a fading scheme
And a dustcloud tears on her eyes
In a treetop the Northwind sighs

On a march through the fields
Hearing [bad word] banners raised 
The soil is soaked with blood 
Despair death embraced

Falling rain is our last gift from heaven 
As we follow the path to [bad word] 
The dust cloaks the forest
spectre leads our path 
Our eyes are burning with hate
Our hearts are scorched by wrath 

On a march through the fields [bad word] lost in the night
Neither hoping nor fearing 
Of the hideous fight

Falling leaves in a broken night 
We drown in sorrows 
And fear the embers bite 
Hear the sound of metal 
The noise of guns 
The roaring of thunder 
And the bursting of bombs 

On a march through the fields
Hearing [bad word] banners raised
The soil is soaked with blood
Despair death embraced
On a march through the fields  [bad word] lost in the night 
Neither hoping nor fearing 
Of the hideous fight