Sinked ships, you can see them all the way from the bay
They serve as a testament to all the lives we lost that day
There\'s still blood running through the creases in the valley
You can smell the crimson coloured bullets, acting as the water\'s algae
The skies screamed, \"Artillery shells!\"
The ground laid down, tattooed with the heat of Hell
The craters resembled gouged out souls
Like those that were burdened with this broken land to roam
Their memory of everything is aching and sore
Like the bare soil that sits beneath them, leaving them poor
The filth that lives on their skin and under their nails
Is almost like the national uniform, made only of pain
The faces of the innocent were stretched by fear and sorrow
Hopeless hearts forgetting what it felt like on a good morrow
What has their God dished out to them?
Echoing cries in a hollow world and the sight of torn up flesh...