Boots For The Burning

 No more shall we lace these up

for to journey to the kill.

Never again to thirst for blood

for the glory or the thrill.

 

Lay we down our instruments

our rifles and our bombs.

We will find no joy in body counts

and the filling of the tombs.

 

Our clothing we'll take off

and roll them all in blood

we've gushed from gory wounds

that poured forth as crimson flood.

 

These boots we cast in fiery mounds

and burn to cinder all.

No longer will we march in force

to cause other men to fall.

 

Times of shock and awe will cease

no more the marshal song of war.

Death will finally die, that day

and we will glory in blood no more.