For we will surely die and are like water spilled on the ground
Which cannot be gathered up again
Yet the Lord does not take away life
But plans a way so that the banished will not be cast out from him
My salvation was so near
But it does not assuage my paralyzing fear
That trench was to be my astral womb
For God knows it was nearly my tomb
I prayed, I prayed
Bury me at Ypres
With a coffin made of mud
In full battle array
I pray, I pray
To St. Cocaine
I wait, I wait
For virgin white embrace
I am brought back from the dead
To live again amongst the well fed
Bid to forget the hell
The Hell that I learned to love so well
Death's wail
Haunting Paschiondale
With an elixir mostly of blood
This magic shall not fail
I pray, I pray, and I pray
To St. Leda Cocaine
I wait, I wait, and I wait
For her swanlike embrace
A long march toward a certain death
What doesn't kill me only feeds my paranoia