Tekstovi: Craig's Brother. Lost at Sea. Glory.

And I wonder how Franklin felt in '42
The war's still new, but I'm 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 I'm 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 . . .