Part II
Iniquity Lyrics

I remember sitting in the train.
The singer remembers taking the train, which was not too long ago.

Though it seems ages ago, I figure that no more than a couple of weeks have elapsed since then.
Although it feels like a long time ago, the singer only thinks a few weeks have passed since taking the train.

I also remember the thoughts racing in my mind. I'd read that before going into battle, even the most ardent veteran soldier feels the pangs of fear, and I wondered why I only felt a sense of numbness in my stomach and legs. Premonition perhaps?
The singer recalls thinking that he should be feeling scared like other soldiers, but only feels numbness in his body. He wonders if this is a premonition.

During training we'd been told by our senior officers always to keep our carbines clean of grime.'Cleansed mine for what might have been the fiftieth time, whilst rolling through the French countryside listening to the distant thunder.
While riding on the train, the artist recalls cleaning his carbine for the fiftieth time while listening to the distant sound of thunder, not realizing it was the Germans shelling their line.

By then I didn't realise that it was the mellow booming of the Germans' heavy artillery, shelling our line. Or, maybe, ours shelling theirs?
The artist realizes later that the sound he heard was likely the Germans shelling their line, but wonders if it could have been their own artillery shelling the enemy.

I'd heard that even if you're dug in, in a shelter, the big howitzers could get you.
The singer remembers hearing that even if you are in a shelter, the big howitzers can reach you during an attack.

In the train I split a cigarette with a guy from back home. This was his second trip to the front. He told me how his former company was set to dig out a bombed cellar, and how the people they found had been uninjured by the shrapnel and fire. They had been crushed by the pressure of the detonation - their lungs had been pushed through their mouths. He also told me to swap my bayonet for a field shovel at any given moment. 'When you're at close quarters, a sharpened field shovel can lob the head off a mans shoulders. And it won't break or get stuck in the ribs like a bayonet.' That's what he said.
The singer shared a cigarette with a soldier on the train, who shared a story about a bombed cellar where the pressure of the detonation killed everyone. The soldier also recommended swapping a bayonet for a field shovel due to its effectiveness in close combat.

His name is Liam, or was Liam. As I'm writing this, I can hear him screaming. I can just barely make him out in a crater next to the German trench. Horribly entangled in barbwire. He's not screaming for his mom or anything. Just screaming. Maybe his throat has been lacerated. It sounds kind of gurgling. And he's lost both his legs... Guess he won't be screaming much longer... God I wished that I had a grenade or something, so I could end his misery right now. Well, even if I had a grenade, I doubt that I would be able to hurl it to him.
The artist hears Liam, who is screaming and severely injured in a nearby crater. The artist wishes he had a grenade to end Liam's suffering, but knows he wouldn't be able to get it to him anyway.

I've been holding most of my entrails back with one hand, since darkness fell.
The artist has been holding his entrails inside his body with one hand since darkness fell.

Irony of ironies - the German that opened my stomach knew the trick with the field shovel, too. Or maybe he wasn't German at all. They have a Hungarian penal legion posted along the line. Maybe he was one of them?
Ironically, the soldier who opened the artist's stomach knew the same trick with the field shovel. The artist isn't sure if the soldier was German or Hungarian, but knows there is a Hungarian penal legion posted along the line.

I crushed his head with my respirator canister. Never thought of that as a weapon, but in the heat of close combat, anything will do... I've seen soldiers gouge each other's eyes with bare hands... And I saw a boy, no more than fifteen or sixteen, rip a Germans throat out with his teeth. It is madness! Mere animals clawing at each other.
The singer uses his respirator canister as a weapon to kill the soldier who opened his stomach. He recalls witnessing soldiers using their bare hands to gouge eyes and a boy ripping a German's throat with his teeth. He perceives the situation as madness, with humans acting like mere animals.

Now in the breaks between the drumfires, I can hear the enemy mustering in their trenches. I can hear the sucking sound of boots being yanked out of the knee-deep clay, and the dry clanging of a water-cooled MG being reloaded. The next charge can't be far off, and yet still fear eludes me. For the first time in weeks, I'm certain of what's going to happen.
During a break in the fighting, the artist hears the enemy preparing to charge, with the sound of boots and a machine gun reloading. Despite this, fear does not overcome him, and he feels certain of what will happen.

When the sun rises and hardens the clay, I'll be here no longer. The same numbness I felt in train has returned, and I know my time is at hand. Guess I'll be screaming no more...
The singer knows that when the sun rises and hardens the clay, he will likely be dead. The numbness he felt on the train has returned, indicating that his time is up, and he will no longer be screaming.