The Field Where Poppies Grow�
I know not with which weapons World War III will be fought, but World War IV will be fought with sticks and stones.--Albert Einstein
They buried my father and brothers
In a field where poppies grow
Along side so many others
So many, I just don�t know.
The reason that I�m not buried there
Is because I was too young to go
Or else I�d be keeping them company
In the field where poppies grow.
So many fatherless sons
So many husbandless wives
Thousands of bodies stacked neatly
Like honeycombs in bee hives.
The enemy too has its dead
You can count them by the score
Too high a price to pay?
Well that�s just the price of war.
Somebody has to pay for
An idealistic, unrealistic, fatalistic
Point of view
Yes, somebody sure pays
And if not me then it�s you.
A hundred thousand white crosses
Spread out line by line in a row
Die for glory and go and lie
In the field where poppies grow.
