The dawn is bleeding through the fog Like veins across a broken sky Mud clings like memory to bone And silence reigns where soldiers die We count the seconds like the damned Each thought a hymn, each glance a will The chaplain muttered ghosts and gods Then vanished like the light on hill The wire hums a funeral chord The frost bites deep beneath the lace A letter folded in my coat Still reeks of home Still holds her face Over the top, into the grave Where thunder feeds and steel is brave A million boots, a single bell Each heartbeat marches into hell The timber moans in winter’s breath A solemn climb through smoke and sin A bullet sings my comrade’s name He folds like cloth, like paper skin No glory blooms in salted mud No flags remain when flesh is torn We charge with rifles, teeth, and fear But none recall why war was born The flare ignites A brief sunrise Inverted, cold, and soaked in screams I see my death with open eyes Then sink into the space between Over the top, into the grave Where thunder feeds and steel is brave A million boots, a single bell Each heartbeat marches into hell Tell mother I stood straight and still when the sky broke and the ground drank me... Over the top, beneath the clay The war will eat what’s left of day A field of names with none to save All sons of mud All born to grave
