Post by Garret Whiteman on Dec 4, 2006 21:36:51 GMT 1
Nu vil jeg så skyde mit bidrag ind til vores lille samling digte her på siden. Det er et digt der handler om krig, og jeg har trukket inspiration fra et par Iron Maiden sange (Pachendale, Longest Day) og hvad jeg har hørt om Slaget ved Somme. Jeg er bange for at det blev lidt langt, men jeg blev grebet af det da jeg først kom i gang
Det er som følger:
Threading flat foreign mold
Putting pretty flowers underfoot
Marching ruthlessly over fields and plains
But without a wish to reach the end
Comrades of battle, brothers in arms
I march beside many friends
Ask myself – is this a waste
And is the reason right?
The sky is torn by leaden thunder
The sky cries metal tears
Embraces the earth, taking warriors down
And still we’re marching on
The living rivers, made of uniformed men
Snakes through the promise less battlefield
The muddy banks, the killing field
This is war, my boy – you’re a part of it
The trenches of war
The hell on earth
Kill or be killed
In this most terrible game
This mass grave house the living
‘Cos we’re supposed to die
I see no way out of this alive
I would sell my world for a way back
My boots are wet – my feet are diseased
I haven’t slept for days
I’m cold – in flesh and soul
For I have killed, and I have wrecked families
I watch my brothers die
I hear their dying words
They beg for me to tell their families
But their demise will be mine too
The cold wood of my guns handle
My fingers freeze
Aim and fire! The chant of death
Chilling my heart – letting the bullet fly
My mark is gone – my effort success
Why should I rejoice?
I have caused pain, to his brothers
I won’t think of his children…
My clip is in for one more kill
Death bony finger points
I obey his mark, and aim for my target
But an alliance with death is fickle
Shocking pain races trough my flesh
Enemy marksman picked me
A gunner’s death – a leaden bullet
My own ghost has come for me at last
I lay on the ground – I wish I could rise
Life runs out of me, and the mud around me is red
I can’t be saved – I know
I just hope for an embrace to warm me in afterlife
Why won’t someone come?
The gray sky – my last sight
My whole story is done
But I’m just a spot on the record
Men is screaming around me
Retreat! They say
I can hear their fear
They run for their lives, those clever ones
The pursue sat in, and soon I’m alone
My only companions
The gray sky and the cold mud
This is my tomb, unmarked and unburied
The world blackens, my lights fading out
I use my last force to utter words
No one will hear them
So I devote them to god
“Do not forget me…”
Det er som følger:
Threading flat foreign mold
Putting pretty flowers underfoot
Marching ruthlessly over fields and plains
But without a wish to reach the end
Comrades of battle, brothers in arms
I march beside many friends
Ask myself – is this a waste
And is the reason right?
The sky is torn by leaden thunder
The sky cries metal tears
Embraces the earth, taking warriors down
And still we’re marching on
The living rivers, made of uniformed men
Snakes through the promise less battlefield
The muddy banks, the killing field
This is war, my boy – you’re a part of it
The trenches of war
The hell on earth
Kill or be killed
In this most terrible game
This mass grave house the living
‘Cos we’re supposed to die
I see no way out of this alive
I would sell my world for a way back
My boots are wet – my feet are diseased
I haven’t slept for days
I’m cold – in flesh and soul
For I have killed, and I have wrecked families
I watch my brothers die
I hear their dying words
They beg for me to tell their families
But their demise will be mine too
The cold wood of my guns handle
My fingers freeze
Aim and fire! The chant of death
Chilling my heart – letting the bullet fly
My mark is gone – my effort success
Why should I rejoice?
I have caused pain, to his brothers
I won’t think of his children…
My clip is in for one more kill
Death bony finger points
I obey his mark, and aim for my target
But an alliance with death is fickle
Shocking pain races trough my flesh
Enemy marksman picked me
A gunner’s death – a leaden bullet
My own ghost has come for me at last
I lay on the ground – I wish I could rise
Life runs out of me, and the mud around me is red
I can’t be saved – I know
I just hope for an embrace to warm me in afterlife
Why won’t someone come?
The gray sky – my last sight
My whole story is done
But I’m just a spot on the record
Men is screaming around me
Retreat! They say
I can hear their fear
They run for their lives, those clever ones
The pursue sat in, and soon I’m alone
My only companions
The gray sky and the cold mud
This is my tomb, unmarked and unburied
The world blackens, my lights fading out
I use my last force to utter words
No one will hear them
So I devote them to god
“Do not forget me…”