So when you’re waiting for the next attack
You’d better stand, there’s no turning back
The bugle sounds, the charge begins
But on this battlefield, no one wins
The smell of acrid smoke and horses’ breath
As I plunge on into certain death
The horse, he sweats with fear, we break to run
The mighty roar of the Russian guns
And as we race towards the human wall
The screams of pain as my comrades fall
We hurdle bodies that lay on the ground
And the Russians fire another round
We get so near, yet so far away
We won’t live to fight another day. (dwa)
