I sit in a cold grey bed
Of heavy clay and iron red
The rain washes clean my face
A hollow shell in a lonely place
I am the steel in the mud
I feel the beat of the distant blood
Thunder rolls low from a blackened hill
While the world around me is standing still
The boot that wore me walked away
Into the mist of a dying day
I hold the shape of a ghost's own head
A heavy crown for a soldier dead
The artillery hums a low bass song
The night is heavy and the wait is long
I watch the oil slide down the slope
A rusted piece of a broken hope
I am the steel in the mud
I feel the beat of the distant blood
Thunder rolls low from a blackened hill
While the world around me is standing still
The dawn is racing to break the line
The brass and the lead begin to shine
I sink an inch in the wet brown deep
While the weary men fall fast asleep
No one comes back to claim the prize
Under the weight of the winter skies
Just the salt air and the bitter wind
Where the story ends and the wars begin
I am the steel in the mud
I feel the beat of the distant blood
Thunder rolls low from a blackened hill
While the world around me is standing still
Cold iron skin. Sinking in.
Steel in the mud.
