Dry Bones - Witchery

From the watch I can see them all

Precious, living things

One by one, they each will fall

Food for the worms

And good deeds for the dead unsung

Arrow’s head, tread of the tank

Human flesh for the wolves of war

Piece by piece the machine will eat

In what god’s name should we kill for?

So cold and clean

And white as death

These bleached, dry bones, are all that’s left

Into the fire of the enemy line

For faith or flag, they’re ready to die

Flash of the blade, a twist of the knife

Sends them to their grave and the afterlife

So cold and clean

And white as death

These bleached, dry bones, are all that’s left

Crack of the whip, the Behemoth screams

Annihilation time for the pawns of war

Snap their necks, burn their flesh

An addition to the heap of deeds that are these bones

So cold and clean

And white as death

These bleached, dry bones, are all that’s left