Its funny how you never knew what my name was,
Our only contact was a form for the election.
These days I find that you don't listen,
These days I find that were out of touch,
These days I find that I'm too busy,
So why the attention now you want my assistance,
What have you done for me.

You've gone and got yourself in trouble,
No you want me to help you out.

These days I find that I can't be bothered,
These days I find that its all too much,
To pick up a gun and shoot a stranger,
But I've got no choice so here I come, war games.

I'm up on the hills, playing little boy soldiers,
Reconnaissance duty up at 5:30.
Shoot shoot shoot and kill the natives,
You're one of us and we love you for that.

Think of honor, queen and country,
You're a blessed son of the British empire,
Gods on our side and so is Washington.

Come out on the hills with the little boy soldiers.
Come on outside, I'll sing you a lullaby,
Or tell a tale of how goodness prevailed.

We ruled the world, we killed and robbed,
The fucking lot, but we don't feel bad.

It was done beneath the flag of democracy,
You'll believe and I do, yes I do, yes I do,
Yes I do

These days I find that I can't be bothered,
To argue with them well what's the point,
Better to take your shots and drop down dead,
Then they send you home in a pine overcoat

With a letter to your mum
Saying find enclosed one son, one medal and a note,
To say he won.

Writer : PAUL WELLER
Copyright : Lyrics © UNIVERSAL MUSIC-CAREERS OBO "STYLIST MUSIC, LTD."