Thistle Alley
Fish Lyrics

Rockets are flying, signal distress over no man’s land,
Rockets are launched as a call for help over a barren and deadly battlefield.

With hopes they are fading, splutter and die in a leaden sky,
The rockets lose their momentum and hope fades away as they disappear into the dreary and lifeless sky.

The wounded resignation, the corpses on the wire, a frozen tableaux flickers in the light,
The scene of injured soldiers and lifeless bodies tangled in barbed wire is like a still picture, frozen in time.

Flares are falling, chasing the shadows, nervous eyes, huddled in silence,
Flares burn and fall, casting a spotlight on the soldiers hiding in silence, exposing their fear of being seen.

Hugging the earth, biding time
Soldiers lay low, staying close to the ground, waiting patiently for something to happen.

Motionless as spiders caught out on a killing floor, muffled picks and shovels hold their still,
The soldiers remain still, like caught spiders, while they try to dig graves in silence.

Praying for the darkness to return and hide the graves they are opening, the graves they are digging.
The soldiers hope for nightfall to cover up the graves they are forced to dig and conceal their morbid work.

A storm of fire and metal tears the wood asunder, shatters stumps of scorched and splintered trees,
Explosions of fire and metal rip through the trees and shatter any standing vegetation.

Cowering in the mud within the roots, incessant thunder, tormented shredded souls are torn apart.
The soldiers are hunkered down in the muddy earth while the constant booms of thunder tear humans apart emotionally and physically.

Deep beneath the surface the chalk yields to the chisels, bloodied fingers tear the face away,
The soldiers dig into the earth, revealing the chalk layer buried beneath, and their bloody fingers scrape away at the soil.

Hollowing the chambers along dark Stygian tunnels, hooded candles light the spectres way.
The soldiers continue to dig underground, carving out tunnels while they use candles to see in the dark, creating an eerie and ghostly atmosphere.

Dragons crawl the ridges towards the spires on new horizons, ploughing through the charnel pits and gore,
Machines and weapons creep forward, tearing through the gore and death on the front lines.

The spawn of death’s invention, a victory their burden, the promise stalls and wallows in the mire,
The new creations of war are victorious but they must carry the burden of death, while any hope for progress is lost.

High above the stage, a chorus of dark angels, a circus joins the theatre of war,
A dark choir observes and sings over the battlefield, as the violent and chaotic scene appears like a circus performance.

The props are in position, fuses primed and ready; the wires pulse the signal cue the mine exploding
The explosives are set, the signal is given and the mines explode in a violent, cacophonous scene of destruction.

The graves are opening.
The soldiers' gruesome work continues, as they dig and ready graves for the upcoming casualties.

The dead they are rising, fear haunted faces, gaunt and grey,
The dead come back to haunt the living, their faces showing the anxiety and desperation of their last moments alive.

Ghosts are gathering, the Dance Macabre, the hellish fray
Phantoms congregate as if in a dance of death, as the already terrible circumstances of war become even more hellish.

Heaven above Thistle Alley below
The vast and infinite heavens hover above the desolate Thistle Alley, a place of suffering and death.

Whistles are blowing, the maxims are waiting
The command to attack is given, and the weapons are eager and ready.

To carve the flesh, shatter skulls and crush the bone
The weapons are used brutally to destroy both the physical and mental well-being of the soldiers.

Guns stuttering relentless rake the lines,
The guns fire ceaselessly, creating a harsh and unrelenting noise.

The gas that whispers in the confines of the trenches
The dangerous gas spreads through the narrow trenches, spreading panic and terror among the soldiers.

To choke the life of those who dare to hide.
The gas is meant to suffocate and kill those who seek refuge and concealment in the trenches.

Motionless survivors bloody on the killing floor, praying for the darkness to return,
The wounded soldiers lay still on the bloody battlefield, praying for the relief of nightfall.

Praying for the darkness to return and hide the graves of the living.
Even the living soldiers must hide their graves among the vast numbers of deceased, as the horror of war persists.