1812

Over the edge of the world, covered in frozen blood,
lost my best friend to snow, ready to fall apart
Craving to rule them all, father devoured his heir,
Great Army marches far, destined for great despair
Hell has frozen over
and it’s NOW!
We have marched for many miles, we shall march for many more
in the frozen mud of Russia I am bound to be un-born
Swiftly tagged the juice of nation, I was promised easy bread,
father handed one-way journey to the godforsaken land
Hear the thump of marching armies,
horses neigh and cannons moan
The soundtrack to final battle,
death is reaching for my throat
Just one more step
on the field of broken wishes
Borodino!
The beginning of the end
Lost!
In the 1812!
Gone!
It’s the 1812!
Frenchmen strike with reckless fury,
Russian forces tear apart
On the field of broken wishes
soil is soaking wet with blood
Another page
in the book of failed ambitions
Borodino!
Marks beginning of the end!
Lost!
In the 1812!
Gone!
It’s the 1812!