| Armalite, street lights, nightsights
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| Searching the roofs for a sniper, a viper, a fighter
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| Death in the shadows he’ll maim you, he’ll wound you, he’ll kill you
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| For a long forgotten cause, on not so foreign shores
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| Boys baptised in wars
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| Morphine, chill scream, bad dream
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| Serving as numbers on dogtags, flakrags, sandbags
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| Your girl has married your best friend, loves end, poison pen
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| Your flesh will always creep, tossing turning sleep
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| The wounds that burn so deep
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| Your mother sits on the edge of the world
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| When the cameras start to roll
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| Panoramic viewpoint resurrect the killing fold
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| Your father drains another beer, he’s one of the few that cares
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| Crawling behind a Saracen’s hull from the safety of his living room chair
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| Forgotten sons, forgotten sons, forgotten sons
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| And so as I patrol in the valley of the shadow of the tricolour
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| I must fear evil, for I am but mortal and mortals can only die
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| Asking questions, pleading answers from the nameless faceless watchers
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| That stalk the carpeted corridors of Whitehall
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| Who orders desecration, mutilation, verbal masturbation
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| I in the guarded bureaucratic wombs
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| Minister, minister care for your children, order them not into damnation
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| To eliminate those who would trespass against you
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| For whose is the kingdom, the power, the glory forever and ever, Amen
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| Halt who goes there, Death, approach friend
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| You’re just another coffin on its way down the emerald aisle
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| When your children’s stony glances mourn your death in a terrorist’s smile
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| The bomber’s arm placing fiery gifts on the supermarket shelves
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| Alley sings with shrapnel detonate a temporary hell
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| Forgotten Sons
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| From the dole queue to the regiment a profession in a flash
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| But remember Monday signings when from door to door you dash
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| On the news a nation mourns you unknown soldier, count the cost
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| For a second you’ll be famous but labelled posthumous
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| Forgotten sons, forgotten sons
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| Peace on earth and mercy mild, Mother Brown has lost her child
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| Just another forgotten son |