We deny death,
It's rightful win;
My brothers and I,
That is our sin.
We pay for that,
With our blood and soul;
Till we finish the time,
That from death we stole.
And so over the hills,
We walk as one;
With a sword over the shoulder,
On which we sat our sons.
All bathed in blood,
More of others than our own;
We march ahead,
Without a cry or a moan.
Into hell we walked,
My brothers and I;
Until we win,
Or till we die.
Into hell we marched,
Convinced we will rise;
With courage and valor,
Hard to surmise.
Into hell we walk,
For people like you;
Just asking for prayers,
Not much, just a few.
Into hell we march,
My brothers and I,
Until we win,
Or till we die.
Saturday, November 21, 2009
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