Trail of the Dead 歌词
| 歌曲 | Trail of the Dead |
| 歌手 | Dismember |
| 专辑 | God That Never Was |
| 下载 | Image LRC TXT |
| 作词 : Blomqvist, Estby, Kärki ... | |
| The howl of artillery passes overhead | |
| Trailing tongues of fire, spelling certain death | |
| Counter battery bursts raining down on positions | |
| The steel inferno reaps its deadly harvest | |
| I walk among the corpses of the fallen | |
| Fingers curled into claws of rigor mortis | |
| The wall of fire creeping closer | |
| An infernal crescendo that seems not to end | |
| We left a trail of ten thousand dead | |
| I still hear their screams in my head | |
| Feel the caress of hot lead | |
| Fighting a battle we can't win | |
| Hot steel ripping through young flesh | |
| Our numbers are growing thin | |
| Nowhere to run nowhere to go | |
| Wading through human remains | |
| Comrades in pieces friends cut to shreds | |
| The violence of warfare we start to comprehend |
| zuo ci : Blomqvist, Estby, K rki ... | |
| The howl of artillery passes overhead | |
| Trailing tongues of fire, spelling certain death | |
| Counter battery bursts raining down on positions | |
| The steel inferno reaps its deadly harvest | |
| I walk among the corpses of the fallen | |
| Fingers curled into claws of rigor mortis | |
| The wall of fire creeping closer | |
| An infernal crescendo that seems not to end | |
| We left a trail of ten thousand dead | |
| I still hear their screams in my head | |
| Feel the caress of hot lead | |
| Fighting a battle we can' t win | |
| Hot steel ripping through young flesh | |
| Our numbers are growing thin | |
| Nowhere to run nowhere to go | |
| Wading through human remains | |
| Comrades in pieces friends cut to shreds | |
| The violence of warfare we start to comprehend |
| zuò cí : Blomqvist, Estby, K rki ... | |
| The howl of artillery passes overhead | |
| Trailing tongues of fire, spelling certain death | |
| Counter battery bursts raining down on positions | |
| The steel inferno reaps its deadly harvest | |
| I walk among the corpses of the fallen | |
| Fingers curled into claws of rigor mortis | |
| The wall of fire creeping closer | |
| An infernal crescendo that seems not to end | |
| We left a trail of ten thousand dead | |
| I still hear their screams in my head | |
| Feel the caress of hot lead | |
| Fighting a battle we can' t win | |
| Hot steel ripping through young flesh | |
| Our numbers are growing thin | |
| Nowhere to run nowhere to go | |
| Wading through human remains | |
| Comrades in pieces friends cut to shreds | |
| The violence of warfare we start to comprehend |
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