jurandirnog

Marching on dead feet over a field of gray we lost the soul we lost ourselves in a time we'll never forget we're an army of dead men. Innocence gone hearts lost Those who shoved us into this world were lost long ago as a wage of war. Even the shallowest scratch cuts to the bone with a story we don't care to tell some still scream when in the heat of battle they find another hollow in the very flesh of their souls. But most can no longer muster a tear as we march doing the dirty work of the devil. An army of dead men. We only wish we could care