For whom do the bells toll when sentenced to die
The stuttering rifles will stifle the cry
The monstrous anger, the fear's rapid rattle
A desert inferno, kids dying like cattle

And don't tell me, we're not prepared
I've seen today's marine
He's eighteen and he's eager
He can be quite mean

No mockeries for them, no prayers or bells
The demented choirs, the wailing of shells
The boys holding candles, on untraveled roads
The fear spreads like fire as shrapnel explodes

I think it's wrong
To conscript our youth against their will
When plenty of our citizenry, really like to kill

What sign posts will lead to Armageddon's fires
What bugles will call them from crowded grey shires
The women sit quiet with death on their minds
A slow dusk descending, the drawing of blinds

Make the hunters all line up, it's their idea of fun
And let those be forgiven, who never owned a gun
Was it him or me, or the wailing of the dead
The laughing soldiers, cast their lots
And you can cut the dread

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