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Mick Softley |
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Let me tell you the story of a soldier named Dan. |
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Went out to fight the good fight in South Vietnam, |
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Went out to fight for peace, liberty and all, |
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Went out to fight for equality, hope, let's go, |
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And the war drags on. |
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Found himself involved in a sea of blood and bones, |
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Millions without faces, without hope and without homes. |
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And the guns they grew louder as they made dust out of bones |
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That the flesh had long since left just as the people left their homes, |
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And the war drags on. |
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They're just there to try and make the people free, |
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But the way that they're doing it, it don't seem like that to me. |
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Just more blood-letting and misery and tears |
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That this poor country's known for the last twenty years, |
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And the war drags on. |
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Last night poor Dan had a nightmare it seems. |
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One kept occurring and re-occurring in his dream: |
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Cities full of people burn and scream and shoutin' loud |
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And right over head a great orange mushroom cloud. |
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And there's no more war, |
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for there's no more world, |
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And the tears come streaming down. |
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Yes, I lie crying on the ground. |