We're dropping 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 home
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 sure I'll come back
In a wooden 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 no mans land...no mans land...

And if those generals say: don't worry
Same old assholes same old story
And it's not true...

Writer : WINGER, KIP/BEACH, REB/SPIRO, MARK
Copyright : Lyrics © EMI Music Publishing