| As the daylight starts to fade —
|
| Twisting shadows all around.
|
| Dead soldiers on parade —
|
| The ghosts of Porton Down.
|
| Hidden from the public eye, «A cause for regret»
|
| Wrote the Brigadier-General with the chemistry set.
|
| «Can't be more specific — the matter’s confidential,
|
| Links with other incidents are just coincidental.»
|
| In jeopardy — welcome to the lion’s den,
|
| We skate on thin ice — dice with death.
|
| While young boys drown in seas of poison —
|
| We are the plagiarists of breath.
|
| We go left right left right left —
|
| They’re left in the right again.
|
| We go right left right left right —
|
| We’ve no rights left anymore.
|
| Military science picking the locks
|
| Of a 20th Century Pandora’s box.
|
| A father tells a son,
|
| «The army makes a man of you.»
|
| Now all vital signs are gone —
|
| Another joins the countless few.
|
| Mentioned in dispatches — they tell the same old story,
|
| 'Dulce et decorum est pro patria mori,"
|
| They listened to him screaming —
|
| They sat and watched him writhe,
|
| Taking turns observing as his body burns alive.
|
| Rifles firing at the sky —
|
| As the «Last Post"starts to play.
|
| Young soldiers often die —
|
| And the truth gets filed away.
|
| Thomas Atkins (Private 20 967),
|
| Now reports for duty —
|
| He’s been posted up to heaven.
|
| Enlisted by conscription — a participant unwilling.
|
| Who didn’t plan to give his life for taking the «King's Shilling».
|
| In jeopardy — welcome to the lion’s den,
|
| We skate on thin ice — dice with death,
|
| While young boys drown in seas of poison —
|
| We are the plagiarists of breath. |