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Commemorating the Centenary of ANZAC on 25th of April 2015. One hundred years have passed since that fateful landing at Gallipoli. This song is dedicated to the courageous men that perished and those who survived. All proceeds from the sale of this track will go to Legacy.

Legacy is a charity providing services to Australian families suffering financially and socially after the incapacitation or death of a spouse or parent, during or after their defence force service. Legacy currently care for around 90,000 widows and 1,900 children and disabled dependants throughout Australia.

A big thanks to the musicians who who gave their talents freely to this project.

Session Drummer - Peter Heckenberg
Young Cellist - Miles Mullins-Chivers
Vocalist and Lyricist - Oliver Spencer
Composition/Lyrics, Production, Guitars and Bass - Fabian Weston

Thank you for donating.

Kind regards,

Fabian Weston


released 25 April 2015

Drums - Peter Heckenberg
Cello - Miles Mullins-Chivers
Vocals and Lyrics - Oliver Spencer
Composition/Lyrics, Backing Vocals, Guitars and Bass - Fabian Weston
Producer/Engineer - Fabian Weston

(Photo credit: RSL)

It’s the memories untold
Like a burning in the coal.
That brakes the mould that makes the man
That marches to the beat of the band.

Slouched hats, trembling hands,
We once were young and full of plans
And walked the path that’s paved with pride
For today we wear cracked knuckle smiles.
As the shadows start to draw
Across the fading tiled floor
Raised glasses start to stain.

All is fought and won
The last post has gone silent.
It’s time to carry on
We can only carry on.

Broken bodies in the fields and I’m
Tripping over shadows on the way too
Might fall asleep without the dreams
Sick and tired of waking to my gunshot screams

Every single night I hear a tolling bell
The silence of the fallen as I marched into hell
Cut away the scars and the pink skin bleeds
I’m beaten by the demons that plague my sleep.

And the sound of glasses that will clink no more
And the polished steps of the young men
Who marched on tiled floor.
The polished steps of the young men

Yet the story that was never told
Was how it broke them in the cold
It made the mould that broke the man
That march on to the beat of the band

Every now and then I hear the tolling bell
And the silence of the fallen as we marched into hell
Villains and Heroes of a cold and bloody war.
I wonder when I look around,
What the hell were we fighting for?



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