|
Young men, soldiers, nineteen fourteen
|
|
Marching through countries they'd never seen
|
|
Virgins with rifles, a game of charades
|
|
All for a children's crusade
|
|
Pawns in the game are not victims of chance
|
|
Strewn on the fields of Belgium and France
|
|
Poppies for young men, death's bitter trade
|
|
All of these young lives betrayed
|
|
The children of England would never be slaves
|
|
They're trapped on the wire and dying in waves
|
|
The flower of England face down in the mud
|
|
And stained in the blood of a whole generation
|
|
Corpulent generals safe behind lines
|
|
History's lessons drowned in red wine
|
|
Poppies for young men, death's bitter trade
|
|
All of those young lives betrayed
|
|
All for a children's crusade
|
|
The children of England would never be slaves
|
|
They're trapped on the wire and dying in waves
|
|
The flower of England face down in the mud
|
|
And stained in the blood of a whole generation
|
|
Midnight in Soho nineteen eighty four
|
|
Fixing in doorways, opium slaves
|
|
Poppies for young men, such bitter trade
|
|
All of those young lives betrayed
|
|
All for a children's crusade
|
|
|
-----------------
|
Childrens Crusade
|
Sting |