Trail Of The Dead — Dismember

Howl artillery overhead Leaving traces of flames, which entail certain death Response batteries spew rain on position Steel hell reaps its deadly harvest

I walk among the corpses of the fallen His fingers twisted in a snap of rigor mortis

Wall onya creeps closer Hellish crescendo that seems to never end

We leave a trail of ten thousand dead I can still hear their screams in my head

Feel the caress of hot lead Fought in the battle that we can not win

Hot stalproryvaetsya through young flesh Our ranks are thinning

Nowhere to run, nowhere to go Wade on human remains Comrades blown to pieces, friends apart We are beginning to comprehend the violence of war