Warchild

Who will save the war child, baby? Who controls the keys? The web we weave is thick and sordid Fine by me At times of war we're all the losers, there's no victory We shoot to kill, and kill your lover Fine by me War child Victim of political pride Plant the seed, territorial greed Mind the war child We should mind the war child I spent last winter in New York And came upon a man He was sleeping on the streets and homeless He said, "I fought in Vietnam" Beneath his shirt he wore the mark He bore the mark of pride A two-inch deep incision carved, into his side War child Victim of political pride Plant to seed, territorial greed Mind the war child We should mind the war child Whose the loser now, eh? Whose the loser now? We're all the losers now We're all the losers now War child, war child