Procol Harum - The Unquiet Zone

They seek us in this unquiet zone Chase us on from pole to pole They hunt us down like carrion crows They search us out like frightened moles We huddled close against the ground Scared to make the slightest sound And all around the great guns boom The constant march of pending doom Sure is a dreadful warㅤ An awful waste of guts and gore An awful waste of human life This senseless, bloody, bitter strife