We stand around a fresh dug grave
And weep. We cry for the brave.
Never again shall life be wasted,
For their death, peace can be tasted.
Fearless leader glorifies with verse
Pulled from a hat, and so are we coerced.
The day after, we talk about those
who led us to a show of empty prose.
We curse and sigh and bicker and promise
Never again to throw the dice
Tomorrow forgets yesterday's regrets.
Peace is a mirage in the desert.
Once again we stand 'round a grave
And we weep for the brave.