Stench of Guts
Mortal dread masked by bravery
The faceless stand before us
Broken bones to be rattled and thrown
The herd of steel breaks through
Into the fray
Addiction to bloodshed
Rip out their living guts
Third army men
We will not falter
We will never fail
Fresh made corpses crack beneath the treads
Juices of the dead
Armoured warfare, machinery of death
Grease the wheels with blood
Tons of armor, Sherman tanks
Victory lies at hand
Heading home, through Berlin
In the heart of the German fatherland
Tracks drenched in blood
Forwards we surge
The stench of guts
Announce our scourge
Men are at march
Always onwards
Never holding ground
Rout our foes
German salient
Close up on the Rhine
Third army men
Kill every single Kraut
Tracks drenched in blood
Forwards we surge
The stench of guts
Announce our scourge
A feast of their flesh
The ravens we serve
In the wastelands of slaughter
Pray we hold our nerve
A shallow grave
Defiled and deprived
Display of bones
Eaten barely alive
Patton's stalwart men
Breach the German borders
Cowards left behind
Only brave obey orders
Way back home, on native soil
The weak didn't heed the call
Real men, wrought by war
The Third Army stands tall
The faceless stand before us
Broken bones to be rattled and thrown
The herd of steel breaks through
Into the fray
Addiction to bloodshed
Rip out their living guts
Third army men
We will not falter
We will never fail
Fresh made corpses crack beneath the treads
Juices of the dead
Armoured warfare, machinery of death
Grease the wheels with blood
Tons of armor, Sherman tanks
Victory lies at hand
Heading home, through Berlin
In the heart of the German fatherland
Tracks drenched in blood
Forwards we surge
The stench of guts
Announce our scourge
Men are at march
Always onwards
Never holding ground
Rout our foes
German salient
Close up on the Rhine
Third army men
Kill every single Kraut
Tracks drenched in blood
Forwards we surge
The stench of guts
Announce our scourge
A feast of their flesh
The ravens we serve
In the wastelands of slaughter
Pray we hold our nerve
A shallow grave
Defiled and deprived
Display of bones
Eaten barely alive
Patton's stalwart men
Breach the German borders
Cowards left behind
Only brave obey orders
Way back home, on native soil
The weak didn't heed the call
Real men, wrought by war
The Third Army stands tall
Credits
Writer(s): William Persson öberg
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