| Hourglass sands run through my veins like blood draining from a salty wound
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| Mad Mars forgets the cost of strife, serves no longer, purpose in my life
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| I lie in sweat, cry others' tears and write a letter to my Mum
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| My wife, my God unheard, unseen, Who never thinks to intervene
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| Oh, what pain and oh, what lie has called to us, from heaven on high?
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| This cruel and harsh sweet punishment for follies acted, leaves us spent
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| Long road to Baghdad, then Persian hordes?
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| Where will we stop to sheath our swords?
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| IEDs lie patient, sleeping, wake when soldier boots come creeping
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| Hourglass sands run through my veins like blood draining from a salty wound
|
| Mad Mars forgets the cost of strife, serves no longer, purpose in my life
|
| Down this dusty scorched wind-blast track, eyes facing forward, ne’er look back
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| As rain comes down on Wootton Bassett Town, black hearses crawl and church
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| bells sound
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| Bikers, burghers line the kerbs; |
| a politician, a Highness Royal
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| Chance shoppers, tradesmen, stiffly stand and shed their tears for the military
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| man |