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Silently to silence fall |
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In the fields of futile war |
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Toys of death are spitting lead |
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Where boys that were our soldiers bled |
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Warhorse and war machine |
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Curse the name of Liberty |
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Marching on as if they should |
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Mix in the dirt our brothers' blood |
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In the mud and rain |
|
What are we fighting for? |
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Is it worth the pain? |
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Is it worth dying for? |
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Who will take the blame? |
|
Why did they make a war? |
|
Questions that come again |
|
Should we be fighting at all? |
|
Once, a ploughman hitched his team |
|
Here he sowed his little dream |
|
Now bodies, arms, and legs are strewn |
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Where mustard gas and barbwire bloom |
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Each moment's like a year |
|
I've nothing left inside for tears |
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Comrades dead or dying lie |
|
I'm left alone asking, "Why?" |
|
In the mud and rain |
|
What are we fighting for? |
|
Is it worth the pain? |
|
Is it worth dying for? |
|
Who will take the blame? |
|
Why did they make a war? |
|
Questions that come again |
|
Should we be fighting at all? |
|
After the war |
|
Left feeling no one has won |
|
After the war |
|
What does a soldier become |
|
War is over and battles are gone |
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After the war, no one has won |
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I'm just a soldier |
