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I often hear the call |
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Of the infantrymen as they fall |
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To the depths of me |
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The depths of me. |
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And when the night has gone |
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And the trenches greet the dawn |
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What it asks of me |
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What it wants me to be |
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Oh, the firing line |
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Oh, the firing line. |
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It still remains |
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In a sea of october rain |
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And the eyes of a frightened lonely child |
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Stare inside of me. |
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Oh, the firing line |
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Oh, the firing line |
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And who of all my friends |
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Will be there at the end |
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When they lay me out |
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When they lay me out? |
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Oh, the firing line |
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Oh, the firing line |
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Oh, the firing line |
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Oh, the firing line. |
