No Man's Land

Tales of the Heart

Hear the hymns of all the dead,

how proud they sing above your heads,

be you brave or be you mad

its all the same to those without rest.


Moving forward or turning back,

if you do it for love or the freedom you lack,

be ready for the waves upon waves

of dead that march your way.


The river flows from the scars that were formed,

dyed and undrinkable as the rain horizontally stormed.

This land of flowers and beasts,

is now the tomb of children playing men.


The sound of thunder quakes

but the fallen never wake.

The day will eventually clear,

so hear the hymns of all the dead,

but tales of peace,


let that not be said,

for to this day,

the living were lead.