I lay my heart unto you
I lay my dreams, my memories
All my love, let me pour unto you
Though I do shiver
To the coldness of this steel
And Death’s shadow lurking beneath the grounds
“Lead me,” I said, “my Lord,
To the grounds of my battlefield.”

I lay my heart unto you

March on, our soul
To the dawn of Fortune’s core
March on, our hearts, march on
And at last, sing our prayers
With a song of silence
And lament for the graves of our fathers,
Lament for wisdom,
Lament for wars,
Lament—for the sights of our souls.

I suppose that God must be grieving too—
While we were lying under a field of stars,
While we were singing the song of Death,
World’s unchanging matter revolves still,
Creating what would have been a thrill
To all of us and to the angels of today.

I suppose the sky should have listened,
As the raindrops we see right now
Will wash away the sins from us,
The sins painted with crimson,
Black, red—colors of carnage and filth.

I suppose the angels should have listened,
And all the creatures of the world—
Listen to the song of silence,
To the dreamy chants of the rain,
For I reckon that God must have cried.