In a foreign field he lay
Lonely soldier, unknown grave
On his dying words he prays
Tell the world of Paschendale
Relive all that he's been through
Last communion of his soul
Rust your bullets with his tears
Let me tell you 'bout his years
Laying low in a blood filled trench
Kill time 'til my very own death
On my face I can feel the falling rain
Never see my friends again
In the smoke, in the mud and lead
Smell the fear and the feeling of dread
Soon be time to go over the wall
Rapid fire and the end of us all
Whistles, shouts and more gun fire
Lifeless bodies hang on barbed wire
Battlefield nothing but a bloody tomb
Be reunited with my dead friends soon
Many soldiers eighteen years
Drown in mud, no more tears
Surely a war no-one can win
Killing time about to begin
Home, far away
From the war, a chance to live again
Home, far away
But the war, no chance to live again
The bodies of ours and our foes
The sea of death it overflows
In no man's land, God only knows
Into jaws of death we go
Crucified as if on a cross
Allied troops they mourn their loss
German war propaganda machine
Such before has never been seen
Swear I heard the angels cry
Pray to god no more may die
So that people know the truth
Tell the tale of Paschendale
Cruelty has a human heart
Every man does play his part
Terror of the men we kill
The human heart is hungry still
I stand my ground for the very last time
Gun is ready as I stand in line
Nervous wait for the whistle to blow
Rush of blood and over we go
Blood is falling like the rain
It's crimson cloak unveils again
The sound of guns can't hide their shame
And so we die at Paschendale
Dodging shrapnel and barbwire
Running straight at cannon fire
Running blind as I hold my breath
Say a prayer symphony of death
As we charge the enemy lines
A burst of fire and we go down
I choke a cry but no one hears
Feel the blood go down my throat
Home, far away. From the war, a chance to live again
Home, far away. But the war, no chance to live again
Home, far away. From the war, a chance to live again
Home, far away. But the war, no chance to live again
See my spirit on the wind
Across the lines beyond the hill
Friend and foe will meet again
Those who died at Paschendale
(Smithharris) In a foreign field he lay Lonely soldier, unknown grave On his dying words he prays Tell the world of Paschendale Relive all that he's been through Last communion of his soul Rust your bullets with his tears Let me tell you 'bout his years Laying low in a blood filled trench Kill time 'til my very own death On my face I can feel the falling rain Never see my friends again In the smoke, in the mud and lead Smell the fear and the feeling of dread Soon be time to go over the wall Rapid fire and the end of us all Whistles, shouts and more gun fire Lifeless bodies hang on barbed wire Battlefield nothing but a bloody tomb Be reunited with my dead friends soon Many soldiers eighteen years Drown in mud, no more tears Surely a war no-one can win Killing time about to begin Home, far away From the war, a chance to live again Home, far away But the war, no chance to live again The bodies of ours and our foes The sea of death it overflows In no man's land, God only knows Into jaws of death we go Crucified as if on a cross Allied troops they mourn their loss German war propaganda machine Such before has never been seen Swear I heard the angels cry Pray to god no more may die So that people know the truth Tell the tale of Paschendale Cruelty has a human heart Every man does play his part Terror of the men we kill The human heart is hungry still I stand my ground for the very last time Gun is ready as I stand in line Nervous wait for the whistle to blow Rush of blood and over we go Blood is falling like the rain It's crimson cloak unveils again The sound of guns can't hide their shame And so we die at Paschendale Dodging shrapnel and barbwire Running straight at cannon fire Running blind as I hold my breath Say a prayer symphony of death As we charge the enemy lines A burst of fire and we go down I choke a cry but no one hears Feel the blood go down my throat Home, far away. From the war, a chance to live again Home, far away. But the war, no chance to live again Home, far away. From the war, a chance to live again Home, far away. But the war, no chance to live again See my spirit on the wind Across the lines beyond the hill Friend and foe will meet again Those who died at Paschendale Explain Request ×
Lyrics taken from
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