Under The Guns  - From The Stand of Baenus III (A Song of Lore from the Legends of Acoria)

We hold in the trench of the battle line. On cold ration packs and beside death we dine. A brother’s body at the elbow. His blood and his guts pooled below. Under the Guns, war is hell. Under the Guns, we hear our death bell. Under the Guns, we feel the shaking blow. Under the Guns, we see our woe. Four days have the shells rained. Not an inch of ground have they gained. Our strength they shall not drain. Their actions we shall make vain. Under the Guns, war is hell. Under the Guns, we hear our death bell. Under the Guns, we feel the shaking blow. Under the Guns, we see our woe. In the sky above, streaks begin to glow. The fruits that our pain did sow. To all the gods we had prayed. That our Navy could break the blockade. Under the Guns, war is hell. Under the Guns, we witness their death knell. Under the Guns, we do survive. Under the Guns, The reaper of our souls we deprive.