Armada of the Damned
Drums slowly produce a beat
Bleeding grass beneath trampling feet
Hills of green now drown in red
Here come marching in, the dead
Proud they are to be colour coded
Blue sprayed red by guns unloaded
Painting with a silver brush
Shooting from a blunderbuss
They scream and plead to high command
For mercy, to please leave the land
But still the dead man marches on
Until fulfilled by fired gun
Years they pass and flowers bloom
From soldiers' decomposing flesh
Grass here grows with crimson tint
The roaring fires turn to ash
