Pale Roses - the Bowmen | Текст песни

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• Pale Roses
• the Bowmen

THE BOWMEN

Inspired by Arthur Machen’s short story of the same name (1915)

Come on, wounded soldiers,
No longer praying for rest,
Of all Heaven’s bowmen,
Saint George sent you the best.
Hear, the arrows are singing,
Hear them, heirs of Hölderlin!
Soon we’re gonna drink to the ruin of Berlin…

A storm of steel, my lord,
Blowing harder with every hour,
Have mercy, we’re just ploughmen,
Not knights from Arthur’s tower!
Can you see the shining?
Angels come down whirlin',
Soon we’re gonna drink to the ruin of Berlin…

On a dreadful summer day,
Shells raining from the sky,
Ten thousand grey men
Didn't know they were gonna die.
They didn't really understand
(Battle calls they were hurlin').
Tonight we’re gonna drink to the bowmen and the ruin of Berlin.