Firing Line

I often hear the call
Of the infantrymen as they fall
To the depths of me
The depths of me.

And when the night has gone
And the trenches greet the dawn
What it asks of me
What it wants me to be

Oh, the firing line
Oh, the firing line.

It still remains
In a sea of october rain
And the eyes of a frightened lonely child
Stare inside of me.

Oh, the firing line
Oh, the firing line

And who of all my friends
Will be there at the end
When they lay me out
When they lay me out?

Oh, the firing line
Oh, the firing line

Oh, the firing line
Oh, the firing line.