"In a foreign field he lay, lonely soldier unknown grave
On his dying words he prays, tell the world of Paschendale

Relive all that he's been through, last communion of his soul
Rust your bullets with his tears. Let me tell you 'bout his years

Laying low in a blood filled trench, killing time 'til my very own death
On my face I can feel the falling rain, never see my friends again

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a tale of a sly fox is up for adoption if you want it, you can have it.