There's more to be revealed Lovers and friends meet again and again On the dear old, on the dear old On the dear old battlefield Death is unreal that
ترجمة: لا يصدق سلسلة باند. عزيزي المعركة القديمة.
the battlefield Who will be there Will you stand with the band of survivors Hand in hand 'til the end of the day Taking the land with the band of survivors
[P. Wagner, J. Schroeder/P. Wagner] [This is a fun-version with new words of an very old song from Avenger, the band that became Rage in late '85. It
The low pressure band had broken up but not let go As holy stormy monday broke out on the streets below If not to hear your voice is still the thing
is designed to gloss over real problems And very often those who profess dissent only add to the deception. Words are banded about, but always at the
Hail!!! I know there are people in the scene, who once lived it out. Now they're watching TV, prefer sitting on their couch. But Brothers, the're still bands
[Verse 1] The Battlefield is set, we're here for attack. Sworn to fulfil our dream. When the lightning strikes down and the falcon comes out My heart
There comes the fire, a thundering light. It is a symbol, a symbol of might For all the sons and daughters of steel. Let's get armed and storm the battlefield
accepting lies Running to the battlefield And losing their lives I see a generation rising up No longer accepting lies As a band of worshipers run to the battlefield
who I am and I know my destiny, I know who is my brother and who is my enemy, today is a good day to die... Shed blood cools on the battlefield, blood
French March there in double time As the battle begins Napoleon springs his audacious plan He'll attack them on two fronts Splitting up his warring Band
do for self due to the pen May these bars reach through your bars And ma, whenever saying it Here's your heart Cops show, least the stands fill, you all Love is a battlefield
are swayin' in the breeze, As if to hang their heads and cry. The ballroom is quiet and empty, Where the bands once used to play; And the battlefields
takes his band of laughing dead To gather up the wages of skin Keep my eyes upon the pavement Nothing else could save me In this battlefield of blood
to the pen May these bars reach through your bar And ma, when mary sing it heals yo heart Cause solice is stands filled you are Love is a battlefield,
next pint. * Entertainment is designed to gloss over real problems And very often those who profess dissent only add to the deception. Words are banded
