Devido al las constantes lluvias, la batalla se prolongó, el campo estab marcado por el impactod de la artilleria, los soldados vivian en las trincheras llenas de lodo y los suministros no podian llegar debido a la situación del terreno
The price of a mile-Sabaton
The Price Of A Mile
Hear the sound of a machinegun
Hear it echo in the night
Mortals firing rains the scene
Scars the fields
that once were green
It's a stalemate at the frontline
where the soldiers rest in mud
roads and houses
all is gone
there is no glory to be won
know that many men will suffer
know that many men will die
half a million lives at stake
Ask the fields of Passchendaele
And as the night falls the general calls
and the battle carries on and on
How long?
What is the purpose of it all
What's the price of a mile?
Thousands of feet march to the beat
It's an army on the march
Long way from home
Paying the price in young men's lives
Thousands of feet march to the beat
It's an army in despair
Knee-deep in mud
Stuck in the trench with no way out
Thousands of machineguns
Kept on firing through the night
Mortars blazed and wrecked the scene
Guns in the fields that once were green
Still a deadlock at the frontline
Where the soldiers die in mud
roads and houses since long gone
still no glory has been won
know that many men has suffered
know that many men has died
Six miles of ground has been won
Half a million men are gone
And as the men crawled the general called
And the killing carried on and on
How long?
What's the purpose of it all?
What's the price of a mile?
Thousands of feet march to the beat
It's an army on the march
Long way from home
Paying the price in young men's lives
Thousands of feet march to the beat
It's an army in despair
Knee-deep in mud
Stuck in the trench with no way out
Young men are dying
They pay the price
Oh how they suffer
So tell me what's the price of a mile
That's the price of a mile.
Thousands of feet march to the beat
It's an army on the march
Long way from home
Paying the price in young men's lives
Thousands of feet march to the beat
It's an army in despair
Knee-deep in mud
Stuck in the trench with no way out
Hear it echo in the night
Mortals firing rains the scene
Scars the fields
that once were green
It's a stalemate at the frontline
where the soldiers rest in mud
roads and houses
all is gone
there is no glory to be won
know that many men will suffer
know that many men will die
half a million lives at stake
Ask the fields of Passchendaele
And as the night falls the general calls
and the battle carries on and on
How long?
What is the purpose of it all
What's the price of a mile?
Thousands of feet march to the beat
It's an army on the march
Long way from home
Paying the price in young men's lives
Thousands of feet march to the beat
It's an army in despair
Knee-deep in mud
Stuck in the trench with no way out
Thousands of machineguns
Kept on firing through the night
Mortars blazed and wrecked the scene
Guns in the fields that once were green
Still a deadlock at the frontline
Where the soldiers die in mud
roads and houses since long gone
still no glory has been won
know that many men has suffered
know that many men has died
Six miles of ground has been won
Half a million men are gone
And as the men crawled the general called
And the killing carried on and on
How long?
What's the purpose of it all?
What's the price of a mile?
Thousands of feet march to the beat
It's an army on the march
Long way from home
Paying the price in young men's lives
Thousands of feet march to the beat
It's an army in despair
Knee-deep in mud
Stuck in the trench with no way out
Young men are dying
They pay the price
Oh how they suffer
So tell me what's the price of a mile
That's the price of a mile.
Thousands of feet march to the beat
It's an army on the march
Long way from home
Paying the price in young men's lives
Thousands of feet march to the beat
It's an army in despair
Knee-deep in mud
Stuck in the trench with no way out
Paschendale-Iron Maiden
Passchendaele
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 fallin' rain
never see my friends again
in the smoke in the mud and lead
the smell of fear and the feeling of dread
soon be time to go over the wall
rapid fire and the end of us all
Whistles, shouts and more gun-fire
lifeless bodies hang on barbed wire
battlefield nothing but a bloody tomb
be reunited with my dead friends soon
many soldiers eighteen years
drowned in mud, no more tears
surely a war no one can win
killing time about to begin
Home, far away. From the war, a chance to live again
Home, far away. But the war, no chance to live again
The bodies of ours and our foes
the sea of death it overflows
in no-man's land God only knows
into jaws of death we go...
Crucified as if on a cross
allied troops, they mourn their loss
German war propaganda machine
such before has never been seen
swear I heard the angels cry
pray to God no more may die
so that people know the truth
tell the tale of Paschendale
Cruelty has a human heart
every man does play his part
terror of the men we kill
the human heart is hungry still
I stand my ground for the very last time
gun is ready as I stand in line
nervous wait for the whistle to blow
rush of blood and over we go...
Blood is falling like the rain
its crimson cloak unveils again
the sound of guns can't hide their shame
and so we die in Paschendale
Dodging shrapnel and barbed wire
running straight at canon fire
running blind as I hold my breath
say a prayer symphony of death
as we charge the enemy lines
a burst of fire and we go down
I choke I cry but no one hears
feel the blood go down my throat
Home, far away. From the war, a chance to live again
Home, far away. But the war, no chance to live again
Home, far away. From the war, a chance to live again
Home, far away. But the war, no chance to live again
See my spirit on the wind
across the lines beyond the hill
friend and foe will meet again
those who died at Paschendale
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 fallin' rain
never see my friends again
in the smoke in the mud and lead
the smell of fear and the feeling of dread
soon be time to go over the wall
rapid fire and the end of us all
Whistles, shouts and more gun-fire
lifeless bodies hang on barbed wire
battlefield nothing but a bloody tomb
be reunited with my dead friends soon
many soldiers eighteen years
drowned in mud, no more tears
surely a war no one can win
killing time about to begin
Home, far away. From the war, a chance to live again
Home, far away. But the war, no chance to live again
The bodies of ours and our foes
the sea of death it overflows
in no-man's land God only knows
into jaws of death we go...
Crucified as if on a cross
allied troops, they mourn their loss
German war propaganda machine
such before has never been seen
swear I heard the angels cry
pray to God no more may die
so that people know the truth
tell the tale of Paschendale
Cruelty has a human heart
every man does play his part
terror of the men we kill
the human heart is hungry still
I stand my ground for the very last time
gun is ready as I stand in line
nervous wait for the whistle to blow
rush of blood and over we go...
Blood is falling like the rain
its crimson cloak unveils again
the sound of guns can't hide their shame
and so we die in Paschendale
Dodging shrapnel and barbed wire
running straight at canon fire
running blind as I hold my breath
say a prayer symphony of death
as we charge the enemy lines
a burst of fire and we go down
I choke I cry but no one hears
feel the blood go down my throat
Home, far away. From the war, a chance to live again
Home, far away. But the war, no chance to live again
Home, far away. From the war, a chance to live again
Home, far away. But the war, no chance to live again
See my spirit on the wind
across the lines beyond the hill
friend and foe will meet again
those who died at Paschendale
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