| Song | Army Of The Damned |
| Artist | Pythia |
| Album | Army Of The Damned |
| Mortes manus animus Deus | |
| We are the army of the damned | |
| Men of a far forgotten land | |
| Thousands of years have passed us by | |
| And still you will hear our cry | |
| We left our homes to fight this war | |
| We don't remember what ‘twas for | |
| Still we advance both day and night | |
| Until the time comes to fight | |
| And so they flee from us, our kindred and our kin | |
| They will not stand for us and all that we have been | |
| The blood will flow from us forever and a day | |
| Our oaths are broken by their sins | |
| We gave up all that we could give | |
| So that our children could but live | |
| We march forever to the drum | |
| Of battle that will not come | |
| We hear our lovers cry, though they are dead and gone | |
| We hear our comrades sing that everlasting song | |
| We cannot feel the sun though morning has just come | |
| We are but shadows of the past | |
| Will we find forgiveness, will we? | |
| Will we find forgiveness, will we? | |
| Have mercy on us Father forgive all these men | |
| Who cannot feel the sun though morning has just come | |
| We are but shadows of the past. | |
| We are the army of the damned | |
| Men of a far forgotten land | |
| What I would give to see her face | |
| And love her once more | |
| Brian Blessed recites Siegfried Sassoon’s poem | |
| Suicide In The Trenches | |
| I knew a simple soldier boy | |
| Who grinned at life in empty joy, | |
| Slept soundly through the lonesome dark, | |
| And whistled early with the lark. | |
| In winter trenches, cowed and glum, | |
| With crumps and lice and lack of rum, | |
| He put a bullet through his brain. | |
| No one spoke of him again. | |
| You smug-faced crowds with kindling eye | |
| Who cheer when soldier lads march by, | |
| Sneak home and pray you'll never know | |
| The hell where youth and laughter go. |
| Mortes manus animus Deus | |
| We are the army of the damned | |
| Men of a far forgotten land | |
| Thousands of years have passed us by | |
| And still you will hear our cry | |
| We left our homes to fight this war | |
| We don' t remember what ' twas for | |
| Still we advance both day and night | |
| Until the time comes to fight | |
| And so they flee from us, our kindred and our kin | |
| They will not stand for us and all that we have been | |
| The blood will flow from us forever and a day | |
| Our oaths are broken by their sins | |
| We gave up all that we could give | |
| So that our children could but live | |
| We march forever to the drum | |
| Of battle that will not come | |
| We hear our lovers cry, though they are dead and gone | |
| We hear our comrades sing that everlasting song | |
| We cannot feel the sun though morning has just come | |
| We are but shadows of the past | |
| Will we find forgiveness, will we? | |
| Will we find forgiveness, will we? | |
| Have mercy on us Father forgive all these men | |
| Who cannot feel the sun though morning has just come | |
| We are but shadows of the past. | |
| We are the army of the damned | |
| Men of a far forgotten land | |
| What I would give to see her face | |
| And love her once more | |
| Brian Blessed recites Siegfried Sassoon' s poem | |
| Suicide In The Trenches | |
| I knew a simple soldier boy | |
| Who grinned at life in empty joy, | |
| Slept soundly through the lonesome dark, | |
| And whistled early with the lark. | |
| In winter trenches, cowed and glum, | |
| With crumps and lice and lack of rum, | |
| He put a bullet through his brain. | |
| No one spoke of him again. | |
| You smugfaced crowds with kindling eye | |
| Who cheer when soldier lads march by, | |
| Sneak home and pray you' ll never know | |
| The hell where youth and laughter go. |