| Song | You Say The Battle Is Over |
| Artist | John Denver |
| Album | The Wildlife Concert |
| Download | Image LRC TXT |
| Lyrics:David Mallett Music:David Mallett | |
| And you say that the battle is over, | |
| And you say that the war is all done- | |
| Go tell it to those with the wind in their nose | |
| Who run from the sound of the gun, | |
| And write it on the sides of the great whaling-ships, | |
| Or on ice floes where conscience is tossed- | |
| With the wild in their eyes, it is they who must die | |
| And it's we who must measure the loss. | |
| And you say that the battle is over, | |
| And finally the world is at peace- | |
| You mean no one is dying, and mothers don't weep, | |
| Or it's not in the papers, at least. | |
| There are those who would deal in the darkness of life, | |
| There are those who would tear down the sun, | |
| And most men are ruthless, but some will still weep | |
| When the gifts we were given are gone. | |
| Now the blame cannot fall on the heads of a few, | |
| It's become such a part of the race; | |
| It's eternally tragic for that which is magic | |
| To be killed at the end of the glorious chase. | |
| From young seals to great whales, | |
| From waters to woods, | |
| They will fall just like weeds in the wind; | |
| With fur coats, and perfumes, and trophies on walls: | |
| What a hell of a race to call men. | |
| And you say that the battle is over, | |
| And you say that the war is all done- | |
| Go tell it to those with the wind in their nose | |
| Who run from the sound of the gun. | |
| And write it on the sides of the great whaling-ships, | |
| Or on ice floes where conscience is tossed; | |
| With the wild in their eyes, it is they who must die, | |
| And it's we who must measure the loss. | |
| With the wild in their eyes, it is they who must die, | |
| And it's we who must measure the cost. |
| Lyrics: David Mallett Music: David Mallett | |
| And you say that the battle is over, | |
| And you say that the war is all done | |
| Go tell it to those with the wind in their nose | |
| Who run from the sound of the gun, | |
| And write it on the sides of the great whalingships, | |
| Or on ice floes where conscience is tossed | |
| With the wild in their eyes, it is they who must die | |
| And it' s we who must measure the loss. | |
| And you say that the battle is over, | |
| And finally the world is at peace | |
| You mean no one is dying, and mothers don' t weep, | |
| Or it' s not in the papers, at least. | |
| There are those who would deal in the darkness of life, | |
| There are those who would tear down the sun, | |
| And most men are ruthless, but some will still weep | |
| When the gifts we were given are gone. | |
| Now the blame cannot fall on the heads of a few, | |
| It' s become such a part of the race | |
| It' s eternally tragic for that which is magic | |
| To be killed at the end of the glorious chase. | |
| From young seals to great whales, | |
| From waters to woods, | |
| They will fall just like weeds in the wind | |
| With fur coats, and perfumes, and trophies on walls: | |
| What a hell of a race to call men. | |
| And you say that the battle is over, | |
| And you say that the war is all done | |
| Go tell it to those with the wind in their nose | |
| Who run from the sound of the gun. | |
| And write it on the sides of the great whalingships, | |
| Or on ice floes where conscience is tossed | |
| With the wild in their eyes, it is they who must die, | |
| And it' s we who must measure the loss. | |
| With the wild in their eyes, it is they who must die, | |
| And it' s we who must measure the cost. |
| Lyrics: David Mallett Music: David Mallett | |
| And you say that the battle is over, | |
| And you say that the war is all done | |
| Go tell it to those with the wind in their nose | |
| Who run from the sound of the gun, | |
| And write it on the sides of the great whalingships, | |
| Or on ice floes where conscience is tossed | |
| With the wild in their eyes, it is they who must die | |
| And it' s we who must measure the loss. | |
| And you say that the battle is over, | |
| And finally the world is at peace | |
| You mean no one is dying, and mothers don' t weep, | |
| Or it' s not in the papers, at least. | |
| There are those who would deal in the darkness of life, | |
| There are those who would tear down the sun, | |
| And most men are ruthless, but some will still weep | |
| When the gifts we were given are gone. | |
| Now the blame cannot fall on the heads of a few, | |
| It' s become such a part of the race | |
| It' s eternally tragic for that which is magic | |
| To be killed at the end of the glorious chase. | |
| From young seals to great whales, | |
| From waters to woods, | |
| They will fall just like weeds in the wind | |
| With fur coats, and perfumes, and trophies on walls: | |
| What a hell of a race to call men. | |
| And you say that the battle is over, | |
| And you say that the war is all done | |
| Go tell it to those with the wind in their nose | |
| Who run from the sound of the gun. | |
| And write it on the sides of the great whalingships, | |
| Or on ice floes where conscience is tossed | |
| With the wild in their eyes, it is they who must die, | |
| And it' s we who must measure the loss. | |
| With the wild in their eyes, it is they who must die, | |
| And it' s we who must measure the cost. |