So very young, no more than boys, and they hear it all
In the cry of a cannon, in the shock of the shell
And which name for the god
Or the gods you are fighting for?
And are they fighting beside you?
Or do they have too much sense?
They wouldn't be seen dead here!

And the heroes, heroes they left behind
More than heroes in their widows' eyes
And the children, the children they left behind
Will they grow to believe
The same hero lies?

Left from right, right from wrong
Stranded and you're left somehow
Can you fight without reason?
Is there reason at all?

And which flag, oh which flag
Will they raise when they lay you down?
But a flag fades away
Like the fabric of man
(They shouldn't be seen dead here)

And the heroes
The heroes that came so far
Are they still in sight of their widows' eyes?
And the children, the children they left behind
Will they grow to fit the same hero disguise?

Beat the drum - and strike up the band
As we wave a generation to some foreign land
And we'll raise the flag and raise a glass for one and all
Singing songs of hope and glory, rule for evermore

But no-one's singing when they come marching home again
There's no-one there to sing those songs
We've forgotten yet again... yet again

See the faces on the paper,
of the Sunday magazines
Dulled eyes on glossy pages,
soon closed and so it seems
We're only paper chasing
after someone else's dreams
I don't know where we begin to break the chain

Political ambition or some religious zeal
These are abstract to the innocent,
but the loss is all too real
Time will lay the path for the marching feet again
I don't know where we begin to break the chain

Brought up to attention by the cheering in the bar
The miracle of satellite relays the latest score
With laser-sight precision, we'll take another hit
The toast is absent friends

And every son will grow to play
his absent father's part
And every mother's son is breaking
every mother's heart
Where's the line twixt duty and obedience and sin
There's really no dilemma
when the boots are coming in

And if you reach out, reach out
And you still can't touch the sky
Don't keep the dream alive
You can breathe it in

And if you look down, look down
And you're still on solid ground
Don't keep the dream alive
You can breathe it in

So very young, no more than boys, and they hear it all
In the cry of a cannon, in the shock of the shell
They shouldn't be seen dead here!