They could have
Lived quietly
They all looked alike

They were a dirty mass
Stinking
Undifferentiated

They're screwed
And they know it

Soldiers among soldiers
Life had never
Seemed less real

The scythe of death
Plant his scepter
Upon a hill of corpses

The devil was
Hunting bipeds

Clenching his claws
To smell out blood

And blood repairs nothing

The sun was setting
In an orgy of gore
Inflexible routine
Of barracks
Life

The scythe of death
Plant his scepter
Upon a hill of corpses

The devil was
Hunting bipeds

Clenching his claws
To smell out blood

And blood repairs nothing

The sun was setting
In an orgy of gore
Inflexible routine
Of barracks
Life

The ground is burning
And they don't understand anything but blows

Crushed under the caterpillar tracks
Condemned to be flayed alive
And they saw the reflected image
Of their collective hysteria

Trapped in their illusion of freedom

They were leaving the cold bodies
In search of new hosts
Their true nature has being revealed
Madness to vegetate a few more instants

Right into the
Sanctuary of the dead

It's the law of our life
The permanent war against all

Crushed under the caterpillar tracks
Condemned to be flayed alive
And they saw the reflected image
Of their collective hysteria