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I've told you once I've told you a thousand times |
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No regrets and no remorse |
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No 4 am whiskey soaked wisdom or bloody |
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knuckled politics |
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Do I regret and not a single moment will I ever |
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repent |
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You may say I have lost to a better man |
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This may be true I cannot protest or lie |
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Yet maybe one who did not dare to be wrong or |
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even to be right |
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To those who did not dare to sing out of tune |
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Or sing a different song |
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To march to the beat of a different drum and speak |
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the truths others fear |
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Just give me one thing to live or die for |
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So here's to comrades near and far |
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So raise a glass, raise your voices |
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Years have passed some would say |
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They have not been kind |
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Yet these are the scars of war |
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And we remain yet we stand |
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Bloodied yet unbowed |
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What is the standard with which I bear |
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What flag do we fly when marching to war |
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Only a nation that dare not speak its name |
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Nor can ever shed its pain |
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So here's to comrades near and far |
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Raise a glass, raise hell |
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Years have passed closer to the grave |
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But this is the song we chose to sing |
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To the bitter end, to the end |
