| Do I hear what I think I’m hearing?
|
| Do I see the signs I think I see?
|
| Or is this just a fantasy?
|
| Is it true that the beast is waking
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| Stirring in his restless sleep tonight
|
| In the pale moonlight?
|
| In the grip of this cold December
|
| You and I have reason to remember
|
| Soldiers write the songs that soldiers sing
|
| The songs that you and I don’t sing
|
| They blow their horns and march along
|
| They drum their drums and look so strong
|
| You’d think that nothing in the world was wrong
|
| Soldiers write the songs that soldiers sing
|
| The songs that you and I won’t sing
|
| Let’s not look the other way
|
| Taking a chance
|
| 'Cause if the bugler starts to play
|
| We too must dance
|
| What’s that sound, what’s that dreadful rumble?
|
| Won’t somebody tell me what I hear
|
| In the distance but drawing near?
|
| Is it only a storm approaching?
|
| All that thunder and the blinding light
|
| In the winter night
|
| In the grip of this cold December
|
| You and I have reason to remember
|
| Soldiers write the songs that soldiers sing
|
| The songs that you and I don’t sing
|
| They blow their horns and march along
|
| They drum their drums and look so strong
|
| You’d think that nothing in the world was wrong
|
| Soldiers write the songs that soldiers sing
|
| The songs that you and I won’t sing
|
| Let’s not look the other way
|
| Taking a chance
|
| 'Cause if the bugler starts to play
|
| We too must dance
|
| Soldiers write the songs that soldiers sing
|
| The songs that you and I won’t sing
|
| Let’s not look the other way
|
| Taking a chance
|
| 'Cause if the bugler starts to play
|
| We too must dance |