In a wilderness of foggy thoughts
battling with your minds retorts
and walking on empty plains
where deserts so calm
even drowning rains

Soldier on
to this marching song
head held high
with eyes fixed strong

 [bad word] beat died
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 [bad word] 
are destined to fail

For this battalion
has [bad word] through
therefore captains [bad word] 
I bid you all adieu