Trenchlights of Cadia [STTZ WH40K]

industrial rock, EBM (Electronic Body Music), march rhythm

[intro, spoken, no music!]
[FX: ambient war noise, distant artillery, vox-crackle]
[spoken, radio-filter]
„This is Seventeenth Cadian, Third Company.
Enemy contact, sector Gamma-Nine.
All trenchlights on the line…
[scream] for the Emperor.“

[verse 1]
[beat in, muted guitars, mechanical hi-hat]
Steel on my shoulders, frost in my lungs,
the night tastes of cordite and fear.
I wear a number on rusted plate,
no one will speak it when I disappear.

Mud climbs my boots like a hungry tide,
shrapnel draws new constellations in the sky.
Left of me a curse, right of me a prayer,
all sound the same when the mortars reply.

We don’t count years in this killing ground,
we only count salvos to the next attack.
Every whistle a sentence passed,
every forward step burns the road back.

[pre-chorus]
[guitars open up, siren-synth slowly rises]
I hear the drum of the guns,
pounding names out of bone.
If I fall in this trench,
I will not fall alone.

[chorus]
[full band, gang shouts behind lead]
We are the trenchlights of Cadia,
burning cold in the smoke and rain.
Just shadows in the data-slate,
but we hold, we hold through the pain.

We are the trenchlights of Cadia,
flares that scream in the dying night.
No face, no fame, no glory-song,
just a line that refuses to break or die.

[post-chorus]
[beat strips down, metallic echo]
[gang shouts, call-and-response]
Hold the line –
[response] Hold the line!
For the throne –
[response] For the throne!

[verse 2]
[groove returns, more aggressive riff]
Medicae tent is a crowded prayer,
saints made of gauze and morphine threads.
The Commissar’s coat stalks the mud,
his pistol writes endings in terrified heads.

Vox is a howl of a million wars,
orders and last words jam the same band.
Somewhere a general moves a pin,
calls it a regiment, calls it a “stand”.

I’ve watched worlds break on the morning news,
names I can’t spell turned to ash and glass.
If Cadia falls we’ll be a footnote line,
“Local resistance failed” when the titans pass.

[pre-chorus 2]
[synths swell higher, snare rolls]
But I still feel the trigger,
like a rosary in my hand.
If the stars go dark tonight,
we’ll still die where we stand.

[chorus]
[even fuller, choir-like backing]
We are the trenchlights of Cadia,
burning cold in the smoke and rain.
Just shadows in the data-slate,
but we hold, we hold through the pain.

We are the trenchlights of Cadia,
flares that scream in the dying night.
No face, no fame, no glory-song,
just a line that refuses to break or die.

[bridge]
[half-time feel, heavy toms, distant choir]
Xenos teeth in the wire,
warp-fire clawing the sky,
but the order is simple –
stand, or die where you lie.

I’m not a hero in a legend,
just a pulse in a wall of sound.
If they carve my name in marble,
it will be under someone else’s ground.

[spoken, close, almost whispered]
So load, fix bayonets,
and breathe the poison air.
If the galaxy forgets us,
we were still here.

[breakdown]
[beat drops to kick + bass, alarm-like synth stabs]
[growled shouts]
Cadia! – Stand!
Cadia! – Stand!
[snare roll back into full tempo]

[final chorus]
[octave higher lead, stacked harmonies, cymbal crashes]
We are the trenchlights of Cadia,
burning cold in the smoke and rain.
Just numbers in a martyr’s file,
but we hold, we hold through the pain.

We are the trenchlights of Cadia,
last sparks under a collapsing sky.
No face, no fame, no glory-song,
just a line
[band cuts]
that refuses
[only drums and gang shouts]
to break
or die.

[outro]
[FX: artillery fades, distant hymn-like pad]
[spoken, radio-filter, with static]
„Seventeenth Cadian… status?
…Trenchlights still visible.
Line is holding.“
[long vox hiss, then silence]

4036/7500

✧✦═══⊰ - ⊱═══ ✦✧✦ ✦✧✦ ═══⊰ - ⊱═══✦✧✦ ✦✧✦ ═══⊰ - ⊱═══✦✧ 🎶 Wir haben eine Deutsche Community für Suno Artisten aufgebaut. 🎶 Wir sind die StorytellerZ und Du findest uns im Discord unter: 👉 https://discord.gg/dsET36Ecrk ✧✦═══⊰ - ⊱═══ ✦✧✦ ✦✧✦ ═══⊰ - ⊱═══✦✧✦ ✦✧✦ ═══⊰ - ⊱═══✦✧ © 2025 by Arion Vox. Unauthorized use or duplication of these lyrics and music is prohibited. [intro, spoken, no music!] [FX: ambient war noise, distant artillery, vox-crackle] [spoken, radio-filter] „This is Seventeenth Cadian, Third Company. Enemy contact, sector Gamma-Nine. All trenchlights on the line… [scream] for the Emperor.“ [verse 1] [beat in, muted guitars, mechanical hi-hat] Steel on my shoulders, frost in my lungs, the night tastes of cordite and fear. I wear a number on rusted plate, no one will speak it when I disappear. Mud climbs my boots like a hungry tide, shrapnel draws new constellations in the sky. Left of me a curse, right of me a prayer, all sound the same when the mortars reply. We don’t count years in this killing ground, we only count salvos to the next attack. Every whistle a sentence passed, every forward step burns the road back. [pre-chorus] [guitars open up, siren-synth slowly rises] I hear the drum of the guns, pounding names out of bone. If I fall in this trench, I will not fall alone. [chorus] [full band, gang shouts behind lead] We are the trenchlights of Cadia, burning cold in the smoke and rain. Just shadows in the data-slate, but we hold, we hold through the pain. We are the trenchlights of Cadia, flares that scream in the dying night. No face, no fame, no glory-song, just a line that refuses to break or die. [post-chorus] [beat strips down, metallic echo] [gang shouts, call-and-response] Hold the line – [response] Hold the line! For the throne – [response] For the throne! [verse 2] [groove returns, more aggressive riff] Medicae tent is a crowded prayer, saints made of gauze and morphine threads. The Commissar’s coat stalks the mud, his pistol writes endings in terrified heads. Vox is a howl of a million wars, orders and last words jam the same band. Somewhere a general moves a pin, calls it a regiment, calls it a “stand”. I’ve watched worlds break on the morning news, names I can’t spell turned to ash and glass. If Cadia falls we’ll be a footnote line, “Local resistance failed” when the titans pass. [pre-chorus 2] [synths swell higher, snare rolls] But I still feel the trigger, like a rosary in my hand. If the stars go dark tonight, we’ll still die where we stand. [chorus] [even fuller, choir-like backing] We are the trenchlights of Cadia, burning cold in the smoke and rain. Just shadows in the data-slate, but we hold, we hold through the pain. We are the trenchlights of Cadia, flares that scream in the dying night. No face, no fame, no glory-song, just a line that refuses to break or die. [bridge] [half-time feel, heavy toms, distant choir] Xenos teeth in the wire, warp-fire clawing the sky, but the order is simple – stand, or die where you lie. I’m not a hero in a legend, just a pulse in a wall of sound. If they carve my name in marble, it will be under someone else’s ground. [spoken, close, almost whispered] So load, fix bayonets, and breathe the poison air. If the galaxy forgets us, we were still here. [breakdown] [beat drops to kick + bass, alarm-like synth stabs] [growled shouts] Cadia! – Stand! Cadia! – Stand! [snare roll back into full tempo] [final chorus] [octave higher lead, stacked harmonies, cymbal crashes] We are the trenchlights of Cadia, burning cold in the smoke and rain. Just numbers in a martyr’s file, but we hold, we hold through the pain. We are the trenchlights of Cadia, last sparks under a collapsing sky. No face, no fame, no glory-song, just a line [band cuts] that refuses [only drums and gang shouts] to break or die. [outro] [FX: artillery fades, distant hymn-like pad] [spoken, radio-filter, with static] „Seventeenth Cadian… status? …Trenchlights still visible. Line is holding.“ [long vox hiss, then silence]

0/500