Marching Song
Esben and the Witch
In a wilderness of foggy thoughts
battling with your minds retorts
and walking on empty plains
where deserts so calm
even drowning rains
Soldier on
to this marching song
head held high
with eyes fixed strong
Drum beat died
cymbal crash down
the mud it is thick
with desires to drown
your feet in earth
Your boots are sinking
sink with the memories
of long lost thinking
And armies of many
are fighting their fight
lost in the blackness
they're losing their sights
Your veins are my trenches
my gun is my own
the whispers fall heavy
with delicate moans
Arms and legs
teeth and nail
our fragile companions
are destined to fail
For this battalion
has been run through
therefore captains and comrades
I bid you all adieu