And I wonder how Franklin felt in '42
  The war's still new, but I'm tired of fighting
  Bloody boys sobbing fears all somehow died brave men
  Exalted then, so wrong yet somehow inviting.
  Like a dream moving in slow motion
  The smell of death spreads across the ocean
  Despite the masses that hate the notion
  Bending every purpose toward war
    And the bombs start falling,
  tight fists of rage hurled
  Searching for sanity in such a crazy world
  I guess I thought when we got in our boats and sailed away
  We wouldn't be here today;
  we left behind all that fighting
  In a place where they're still debating feudal rights
  And boundary lines, and ancient agreements
  But I know that I'm only dreaming
  Any day I could wake up screaming
  Taking orders in a far away land
  Marching round with a gun in my hand
    And the bombs start falling,
  as the trigger fingers pull
  Searching for sanity in such a crazy world
    Little boys go marching on for peace . . .