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


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


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


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.


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!

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