After watching the movie "The Hurt Locker" I was moved to write this song, emphasizing the futility of war.
Cities and towns all over the world, they gather and the scene looks the same;
Families of soldiers who'll never come home try to shelter each other from pain.
They stand 'round that flag-covered coffin, hear the prayers and the bugler's song.
In silence they witness they outcome of an idea gone terribly wrong.
With misguided reverence and oblivious pride we salute those colourful rags
That are draped over too many caskets. We're trading our children for flags.
We're trading our children for flags.
And those uniformed soldiers stand silently mourning,
Like statues, they stare straight ahead.
Afraid to consider the question:
"What purpose is served as one more friend lays dead?"
Then they fold the flag slowly, in silence they fold the flag well.
And with practiced precision present it to parents of a warrior who fell
In sorrow those aching hands reach-out; tear-stained faces, in misery, sag.
And its then that they find themselves thinking did they trade their child for a flag?
No, WE traded their child for a flag.
With misguided reverence and oblivious pride we salute those colourful rags
That are draped over too many caskets. We're trading our children for flags.
We're trading our children for flags.
How long will it take 'til we're finished with the speeches, the drums, the brass bands?
'Til we understand that none of this warring could ever be part of ANY God's plan?
And to know we can only be joyful when the guns and the bombs finally cease?
For ten thousand years wars have only brought wars. War can never bring peace.
With misguided reverence and oblivious pride
We salute those colourful rags
That are draped over too many caskets.
We're trading our children for flags.
With misguided reverence and oblivious pride
We salute those colourful rags
That are draped over too many caskets.
We're trading our children for flags.
We're trading our children for flags.
Let's stop trading our children for flags.
Families of soldiers who'll never come home try to shelter each other from pain.
They stand 'round that flag-covered coffin, hear the prayers and the bugler's song.
In silence they witness they outcome of an idea gone terribly wrong.
With misguided reverence and oblivious pride we salute those colourful rags
That are draped over too many caskets. We're trading our children for flags.
We're trading our children for flags.
And those uniformed soldiers stand silently mourning,
Like statues, they stare straight ahead.
Afraid to consider the question:
"What purpose is served as one more friend lays dead?"
Then they fold the flag slowly, in silence they fold the flag well.
And with practiced precision present it to parents of a warrior who fell
In sorrow those aching hands reach-out; tear-stained faces, in misery, sag.
And its then that they find themselves thinking did they trade their child for a flag?
No, WE traded their child for a flag.
With misguided reverence and oblivious pride we salute those colourful rags
That are draped over too many caskets. We're trading our children for flags.
We're trading our children for flags.
How long will it take 'til we're finished with the speeches, the drums, the brass bands?
'Til we understand that none of this warring could ever be part of ANY God's plan?
And to know we can only be joyful when the guns and the bombs finally cease?
For ten thousand years wars have only brought wars. War can never bring peace.
With misguided reverence and oblivious pride
We salute those colourful rags
That are draped over too many caskets.
We're trading our children for flags.
With misguided reverence and oblivious pride
We salute those colourful rags
That are draped over too many caskets.
We're trading our children for flags.
We're trading our children for flags.
Let's stop trading our children for flags.
Contributed by Tom McInerney - 2011/4/1 - 15:03
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