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They flutter behind you, your possible pasts |
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Some bright eyed and crazy, some frightened and lost |
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A warning to anyone still in command |
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{Ranks! Fire!} |
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Of their possible future to take care |
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In derelict sidings the poppies entwine |
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With cattle trucks lying in wait for the next time |
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Do you remember me? |
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How we used to be? |
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Do you think we should be closer? |
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She stood in the doorway, the ghost of a smile |
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Haunting her face like a cheap hotel sign |
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Her cold eyes imploring the men in their Macs |
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For the gold in their bags or the knives in their backs |
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Stepping up boldly one put out his hand |
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He said, "I was just a child then, now I am only a man" |
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Do you remember me? |
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How we used to be? |
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Do you think we should be closer? |
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(Closer) |
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By the cold and religious we were taken in hand |
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Shown how to feel good and told to feel bad |
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Strung out behind us the banners and flags |
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Of our possible pasts lie in tatters and rags |
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Do you remember me? |
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How we used to be? |
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Do you think we should be closer? |
