Fields Of Aeveron

Years have passed away still his soul's condemned
Haunted by remembrance ever till the end
Blood on his hands
He can't wash away.

Marching through the fields of death
Blood is dripping down onto the ground
Kill to live and live to kill
Slaves of war slaves of theirselves.

Scenes of battle, caught in torture
Death and terror ruled the land
Orders led their way no return
Most of them they went there last
But how to die when life has just begun?
Play fate's game to live
Or stay on Fields of Aeveron.

He looks right into his eyes, looks beyond his self-disguise
Closes his eyes but he can't hide the tears
Blood on his hands
He can't wash away.

Marching through the fields of death
Blood is dripping down onto the ground
Kill to live and live to kill
Slaves of war slaves of theirselves.

And the sand rans way too fast
Way too fast out of my hands
Tell me! Is it worth winning a
Fight and therefore losing life?