I
Combat is cruel and cold
Over the countless corpses on the clay,
A crypt of creeping, crawling creatures
Creaking, cracking,
Cracking craniums with coal-powered crunchers
Burn them into crispy critters,
Fry them up like they was fritters
Combat is cruel and cold
II
What ever happened to Willy Wombat?
Apparently he had died in combat,
But after battle he’d always come back
And crush his company with a brickbat
Slaughter both sides ‘till no victories won
Willy Wombat had only begun
Willy Wombat, Immune to the gun,
Unstoppable, unblockable, spoiling their fun
Already dead, but only begun
All the troops he tries, at least to stun
And there is no escaping the web that he spun
III
Upon finding oneself, stuck in a trap
Seems there‘s no way out,
And we’ve lost the map!
Shell-shocked, and burning
Sharp shrapnel is everywhere
And the bullets are flying
Bombs are dropping
Buildings are being burned to the ground.
If a woman appears,
Then opportunity knocks,
It’s the soldier’s duty
To get off his rocks
To rape her and then kill hill her
And then burn the box
Or leave it splayed out, to be devoured by hawks
IV
In the fields where there is battle,
Armies care not about the prattle,
Or that they are displacing the cattle
Militaries strategically use terrain,
To try to maximize their gain
And when trampling down a field of grain
One soldier wishes he’d taken a train
Called the orient express, in faraway Spain,
But instead, he is ruined, and killed in the battle,
Just another casualty fallen
By ‘friendly fire’ he was called in,
To serve in Hell, forever
The devil cannot contain his laughter
All the soldiers sent to be slaughtered,
A generation has been destroyed.
V
Combat is cruel and cold
Over the countless carcasses on the clay,
Crushes people, who have crushed dreams,
At night, only every survivor screams,
And as for the fallen…
…combat is cruel!