08. 1917 - Spring Offensive (Dulce et Decorum est)
Plodding on through the sucking grey mud The carnage fought, oozed by trench war clay That in springs past sprung not a single bud For fear of more death or total dismay
Though shells may plow clean the fields Burning the crops and mauling the mud The wind brings only death from a vat Fertile by cold blood a young man yields Innocent yet mangled in gruesome combat Spewing blackest bile the gas claims one more Cold death comes creeping through the trench If not by shells maimed or crazied long before
A cloud of mustard takes half of those deployed Ghastly faces peer back in black or hues of grey The grandiose arrogance, victory as agony intent Lifeless by the commanders that them did betray
The mindrape of the spectacle of dehumanization Viral god wields his festering scythe of gangrene By endless flashes of mortar or the cadaveric stench Ghostly faces peer through the veil of celluloid
"Creeping like a snake from a can The slithering stench of yellow death Chemical flame of decay Burning skin and intestine Regurgitating the bloody guts Spewing last life from a wretched soul Live for life, kill for all that is wrong He drags himself to safety"
Death in the Perimeter Where furious endearment once was cradled, Crippled by crossfire, but firm of will Live for life, kill for all that is wrong He drags himself to safety, Death in the Perimeter The need to bleed to gain a yard of mud
Plodding on through the sucking grey mud The carnage fought, oozed by trench war clay That in springs past sprung not a single bud For fear of more death or total dismay
Burning holes in his battered back Eyes and mind leaning on the fair horizon But his heart drowning in trench war clay Fertile by cold blood a young man yields Shredded by barbed wire Screaming shrapnel, incandescent hail