Trail Of The Dead

The howl of artillery passes overhead 
Trailing tongues of fire, spelling certain death 
Counter battery bursts raining down on positions 
The steel inferno reaps its deadly harvest 

I walk among the corpses of the fallen 
Fingers curled into claws of rigor mortis 

The wall of fire creeping closer 
An infernal crescendo that seems not to end

We left a trail of ten thousand dead 
I still hear their screams in my head 

Feel the caress of hot lead 
Fighting a battle we can't win 

Hot steel ripping through young flesh 
Our numbers are growing thin 

Nowhere [bad word] nowhere to go 
Wading through human remains [bad word] in pieces friends cut to shreds 
The violence of warfare we start [bad word]