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Lost Patrol
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Big Country
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1
We lay the night in anguish, snakes drawn out by the tide
2
The compass of decision falls always on one side
3
But many went before us, and still the cries are clear
4
There is no beauty here, just the stench of wine and beer
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We save no souls
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We break no promises
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We can do nothing more than move on headlong through the gloom
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The thorn between our lips is the missionaries tune
9
Men with open arms turn their faces half away
10
Observe as we approach that we have not come to save
11
We stand as thick as vines, though the fruit is torn away
12
There is no beauty here, friends, just death and dark decay
Lost Patrol
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