Youth, untested, green
March proudly, uniformly dressed
Generation after generation
Have been fed into the machine
Grinding the steel into the flesh
They shine with pride
The uniforms hide the skin
From peach, or brown
Whatever the color
It will turn red
Running into the phalanx
Into the fortifications
Into the wall of death
Commanded to do so
By old men, armchair kings
Generals with desks
Presidents who hate the military
And anthems about them
We'll sing
So proudly
We'll sing
What will we have won
Who will remember
What was good
About the death
Or why they died
For their country
