1812 - Desert, Ralph Scheepers

Over the edge of the world, covered in frozen blood,

lost my best friend to snow, ready to fall apart

Craving to rule them all, father devoured his heir,

Great Army marches far, destined for great despair

Hell has frozen over

and it’s NOW!

We have marched for many miles, we shall march for many more

in the frozen mud of Russia I am bound to be un-born

Swiftly tagged the juice of nation, I was promised easy bread,

father handed one-way journey to the godforsaken land

Hear the thump of marching armies,

horses neigh and cannons moan

The soundtrack to final battle,

death is reaching for my throat

Just one more step

on the field of broken wishes

Borodino!

The beginning of the end

Lost!

In the 1812!

Gone!

It’s the 1812!

Frenchmen strike with reckless fury,

Russian forces tear apart

On the field of broken wishes

soil is soaking wet with blood

Another page

in the book of failed ambitions

Borodino!

Marks beginning of the end!

Lost!

In the 1812!

Gone!

It’s the 1812!