Make his fight
On the hill in the early day
Constant chill deep inside

Shouting gun
On [bad word] Through the endless grey

On they fight
Are they right
Yes, but who's to say?

For a hill men would kill
Why?
They do not know
Stiffened wounds test their pride

Men of five
Still alive through the raging glow
Gone insane
From the pain that they surely know

For whom the bell tolls
Time marches on
For whom the bell tolls  [bad word] crawling faster
Obey your Master
Your life burns faster
Obey your Master
Master