Run Gunner Run

The fog is hanging low, just like a guilty man
We dig into the snow, as deep and fast as we can
The nights are long in Bastogne, the waiting for the warning
Heaven bless my foxhole, for all Hell shall come storming

Down
Down
Down

The dead are piled on high, we cannot reach our fallen
And through a sniper’s eye, men’s limbs spread like pollen
Mother Mary may I please have a drink of water
Before I carry myself in the eye of the slaughter

Run, gunner run
The job’s not done
I still see another one

And if we lose our heads, artillery and bloodshed
And if we lose our minds, reality is not blind
And are they all back home awaiting our return
And will we, yeah will we, will we ever make it back home?

Home
Home
Home

Run, gunner run
The job’s not done
I still see another one

American soldiers of the 75th Division photographed in the Ardennes during the Battle of the Bulge.

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