And I wonder how Franklin felt in `42 The war`s still new, but IжЉ¦ tired of fighting Bloody boys sobbing fears all somehow died brave men Exalted then, so wrong yet somehow inviting. Like a dream moving in slow motion The smell of death spreads across the ocean Despite the masses that hate the notion Bending every purpose toward war
And the bombs start falling, tight fists of rage hurled Searching for sanity in such a crazy world I guess I thought when we got in our boats and sailed away We wouldn`t be here today; we left behind all that fighting In a place where they`re still debating feudal rights And boundary lines, and ancient agreements But I know that IжЉ¦ only dreaming Any day I could wake up screaming Taking orders in a far away land Marching round with a gun in my hand
And the bombs start falling, as the trigger fingers pull Searching for sanity in such a crazy world
Little boys go marching on for peace . . .
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