IRC-Galleria

You'll take my life but I'll take yours too.
You'll fire your musket but I'll run you through.
So when you're waiting for the next attack,
You'd better stand, there's no turning back.

The Bugle sounds the charge begins,
But on this battlefield no­ one wins.
The smell of acrid smoke and horses breath,
As I plunge on into certain death.

The horse he sweats with fear, we break to run.
The mighty roar of the Russian guns.
And as we race towards the human wall,
The screams of pain as my comrades fall.

We hurdle bodies that lay on the ground,
And the Russians fire another round.
We get so near yet so far away,
We won't live to fight another day.
We get so close near enough to fight,
When a Russian gets me in his sights.
He pulls the trigger and I feel the blow,
A burst of rounds take my horse below.

And as I lay there gazing at the sky,
My body's numb and my throat is dry.
And as I lay forgotten and alone,
Without a tear I draw my parting groan.