Final March in Black - Studio-Quality AI Music Generator by Tangra AI

[Verse] War drums start low, heavy as wet clay Kettle drums thump a heartbeat on the ground Ripping guitars tear the morning sky apart Voices rising like smoke from burning wood [Verse 1] He stands in mud that tastes of iron rust Her armor dries to brittle flakes of bone They trace the scar where cannon fire took hold And watch the ash fall down the wind-swept zone Two men who traded breath for iron sheets Now breathe the scent of sulfur and dry earth The drummers beat a rhythm on the teeth While wolves howl out their hunger in the north [Chorus] Rest here, rest here where the shadows lie Rest here where the moss climbs up the thigh The ground is deep and hungry as a grave We are the dust that the battle waves will wave Male: We are not dead, we are just bent Female: My legs don't work, the cold has sent Both: A signal to the earth to keep us near Male: The silence screams a terrible, clear Female: It's loud with the smell of rotting gear Both: Oh, we are scattered like old clothes over there [Verse 2] She cuts the hair that smells of gunpowder smoke He scrapes the mud from boots that never spoke The river runs with colors from the tanks down south A muddy river dragging down the blackened pout No names are spoken on this cursed plain Just the clatter of a hat against the chain The orchids bloom in soil mixed with bone This is the only seed they ever sown [Bridge] (Whispered, merging voices) The flag is torn, the ripples spread The dead are full, the living need The silence grows a mouth to speak Watch the silence break the neck Drums pound faster, ripping through the grass Guitars scream the memory of the pass [Chorus] Rest here, rest here where the shadows lie Rest here where the moss climbs up the thigh The ground is deep and hungry as a grave We are the dust that the battle waves will wave Male: We are not dead, we are just bent Female: My legs don't work, the cold has sent Both: A signal to the earth to keep us near Male: The silence screams a terrible, clear Female: It's loud with the smell of rotting gear Both: Oh, we are scattered like old clothes over thereWar drums fade to nothing but the breeze Kettle drums in fields of overgrown trees Ripping guitars break on silent string The dead are gone, but the dead don't sing The orchids bloom in soil mixed with bone This is the only seed they ever sown (Whispered, merging voices) The flag is torn, the ripples spread The dead are full, the living need The silence grows a mouth to speak Watch the silence break the neck (Explosion of sound) Mud and moss and sulfur in the smoke Two ghosts trapped on this cursed, broken rock Rest here. Rest here. (End)

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