We march from the beginning of time
Under heaven, through the meadows of sorrow
We are on the honor of a thousand nations
Tears of blood cover our faces
We deliver all that is required of us
On the battlefield in the presence of our enemies
Viscera, pain, honor, blood
Strung from side to side, a thousand lands
Our children grow in absolute nothingness
But despite the truth, no place for weakness
We kill for life, a fine irony
In a world where there is no place for tragedy
They come from all over
We march to meet death without fear
We are soldiers of a thousand lands
We are born, grow and serve to die in these battlefields
War
Corpses piled in hundreds at our feet
Enemies, brothers of our own blood that can´t live
We are slaves of duty and madness
Faithful servants of the lowest human condition
Brave and regal at the time we announce our death
We serve, kill and march up to the last breath
No…End…For…War…Of…A…Thousand…Lands
We have been maimed in body, our soul will not rest, we are not defeated, we fight
We march towards destiny, to a new dawn, leaving behind everything that keeps us from seeing
Under a sunset sky we kill and die
Weapons, hearts and desires that face
The face that sees a new day
The cross on which the dead stick
The two sides of the same coin
The same result with blood on the soil
Victory awaits
We march on to the death
When things start to shake from our cries
Our minds dissolve into a single consciousness
An idea becomes clear to everyone under a sunset sky
There is nothing in a thousand lands so worth dying for
Everything has been swept under the hand of those who marched
We have stained the honor lies with the reality of pain
We sold our souls for the promised heaven
Now is just a hell that none but the human hand can create
Fire and fear, blood brothers tortured for a false cause
We look to our hands without knowing how we have caused it
The thirst for power was very strong even disguised in the cloak of glory
We fought for what never could or should be ours
And now the torment starts with the vision of the battlefield
So much blood spilled for nothing and nobody
We march towards our new destiny
A way to rebuild all this insanity
War
Corpses piled in hundreds at our feet
Enemies, brothers of our own blood that can´t live
We are slaves of duty and madness
Faithful servants of the lowest human condition
Brave and regal at the time we announce our death
We serve, kill and march up to the last breath
War…Of…A…Thousand…Lands
Betrayed by our own stupidity, we march towards the attainment of anything
Down before starting the battle, unwittingly misled by the most hidden subconscious desires
Under a sunset sky we kill and die
Weapons, hearts and desires that face
The face that sees a new day
The cross on which the dead stick
The two sides of the same coin
The same result with blood on the soil
Victory awaits
We march on to the death
War
Under heaven, through the meadows of sorrow
We are on the honor of a thousand nations
Tears of blood cover our faces
We deliver all that is required of us
On the battlefield in the presence of our enemies
Viscera, pain, honor, blood
Strung from side to side, a thousand lands
Our children grow in absolute nothingness
But despite the truth, no place for weakness
We kill for life, a fine irony
In a world where there is no place for tragedy
They come from all over
We march to meet death without fear
We are soldiers of a thousand lands
We are born, grow and serve to die in these battlefields
War
Corpses piled in hundreds at our feet
Enemies, brothers of our own blood that can´t live
We are slaves of duty and madness
Faithful servants of the lowest human condition
Brave and regal at the time we announce our death
We serve, kill and march up to the last breath
No…End…For…War…Of…A…Thousand…Lands
We have been maimed in body, our soul will not rest, we are not defeated, we fight
We march towards destiny, to a new dawn, leaving behind everything that keeps us from seeing
Under a sunset sky we kill and die
Weapons, hearts and desires that face
The face that sees a new day
The cross on which the dead stick
The two sides of the same coin
The same result with blood on the soil
Victory awaits
We march on to the death
When things start to shake from our cries
Our minds dissolve into a single consciousness
An idea becomes clear to everyone under a sunset sky
There is nothing in a thousand lands so worth dying for
Everything has been swept under the hand of those who marched
We have stained the honor lies with the reality of pain
We sold our souls for the promised heaven
Now is just a hell that none but the human hand can create
Fire and fear, blood brothers tortured for a false cause
We look to our hands without knowing how we have caused it
The thirst for power was very strong even disguised in the cloak of glory
We fought for what never could or should be ours
And now the torment starts with the vision of the battlefield
So much blood spilled for nothing and nobody
We march towards our new destiny
A way to rebuild all this insanity
War
Corpses piled in hundreds at our feet
Enemies, brothers of our own blood that can´t live
We are slaves of duty and madness
Faithful servants of the lowest human condition
Brave and regal at the time we announce our death
We serve, kill and march up to the last breath
War…Of…A…Thousand…Lands
Betrayed by our own stupidity, we march towards the attainment of anything
Down before starting the battle, unwittingly misled by the most hidden subconscious desires
Under a sunset sky we kill and die
Weapons, hearts and desires that face
The face that sees a new day
The cross on which the dead stick
The two sides of the same coin
The same result with blood on the soil
Victory awaits
We march on to the death
War
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