Who will save the war child, baby?Who controls the keys?The web we weave is thick and sordidFine by meAt times of war we’re all the losers, there’s no victoryWe shoot to kill, and kill your loverFine by me
War childVictim of political pridePlant the seed, territorial greedMind the war childWe should mind the war child
I spent last winter in New YorkAnd came upon a manHe was sleeping on the streets and homelessHe said, «I fought in Vietnam»Beneath his shirt he wore the markHe bore the mark of prideA two-inch deep incision carved, into his side
War childVictim of political pridePlant to seed, territorial greedMind the war childWe should mind the war child
Whose the loser now, eh?Whose the loser now?We’re all the losers nowWe’re all the losers nowWar child, war child








