Days of glory.
Legionaires, marching to defend our city.
Falling, falling into oblivion.
All for the glory of Iridine.
I stand upon the blood-soaked fields.
Mourning those who have breathed their final breath.
Dying, dying for us.
Those who will never sing again.
Ghosts wander the fields.
Marching in lines, singing old marches.
Marching, marching in columns.
That vanish into the night..