Why all these bugles cry
These squads of young men drill
To kill and to be killed
Stood waiting by the train
Why the orders loud and hoarse
Why the engine's groaning cough
As it strains to drag us all
Into the holocaust
Why crowds who sing and cry
And shout and fling us flowers
And trade their rights for ours
To murder and to die
The dove has torn her wing(s?)
So no more songs of love
We are not here to sing
We're here to kill the dove
Why must this moment come
When childhood has to die
When hope shrinks to a sigh
And speech into a drum
Why are they pale and still
Young boys trained over night
Concripts payed to kill
And dressed in gray to fight
These squads of young men drill
To kill and to be killed
Stood waiting by the train
Why the orders loud and hoarse
Why the engine's groaning cough
As it strains to drag us all
Into the holocaust
Why crowds who sing and cry
And shout and fling us flowers
And trade their rights for ours
To murder and to die
The dove has torn her wing(s?)
So no more songs of love
We are not here to sing
We're here to kill the dove
Why must this moment come
When childhood has to die
When hope shrinks to a sigh
And speech into a drum
Why are they pale and still
Young boys trained over night
Concripts payed to kill
And dressed in gray to fight
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