We're dropplng bombs down on the kids

They can't eat bombs

And we know this

But we're doing what we're told

We're flying around in strategic bombers

With an afterburner straight to hell

Where napalms burning love that smell



My little girl she sits at horne

With my last letter all alone

She stops to read closes her eyes and then she cries

My daddy told me he was proud

My mummy's praying but not too loud

I wonder if the lord will get the massage clear

Oh mummy be shure i'll come back

In a wodden box all painted black

A bullet between the eyes is all what's left for you



Seven times I've asked my head

But all I've got is nomansland...nomansland...



And if those generals say: don't worry

Same old assholes same old story

And it's not true...