Corax
Bluelighter
Bang the drums, roll out the flags,
Strike silver cymbals for the celebrations we never had.
Call out their names, recite their grand deeds,
Pin medals to the ground where they rot and they bleed
Praise our brave Tommies, pour scorn on the hun.
Ring church bells for freedom. The war is won.
As my brother, your sister, his father, our friends,
Lie broken and lonely, their letters unsent.
March in parades, kiss in the streets,
Strip naked and bask in apocalyptical heat.
For victory is sacred, whatever the cost,
And hang the damned traitor who said; the real battle is lost.
Strike silver cymbals for the celebrations we never had.
Call out their names, recite their grand deeds,
Pin medals to the ground where they rot and they bleed
Praise our brave Tommies, pour scorn on the hun.
Ring church bells for freedom. The war is won.
As my brother, your sister, his father, our friends,
Lie broken and lonely, their letters unsent.
March in parades, kiss in the streets,
Strip naked and bask in apocalyptical heat.
For victory is sacred, whatever the cost,
And hang the damned traitor who said; the real battle is lost.
