| I was fallen dead in battle | |
| Must've been Tuesday, I don't know the date | |
| I gave everything everyone asked for | |
| But I say where I be laid | |
| The many dead of my comrades | |
| All look the same in this place | |
| Won't you bury me far from my uniform | |
| So God might remember my face | |
| Do not bother with Congress | |
| With the rich or with the rest | |
| I fought their battles in this world | |
| But I'll not fight for them in the next | |
| Do not find me justice | |
| Just find me a grave | |
| And then bury me far from my uniform | |
| So God might remember my face | |
| Oh my mother, you'll weep and you'll crumble | |
| Take me out of your dreams that I'm in | |
| I can't take another what's not | |
| I'm sick to hear what could have been | |
| I'll not return to your table | |
| So don't save me a place | |
| Just bury me far from my uniform | |
| So God might remember my face | |
| I'm not a cause, not a Christ, not a ransom | |
| I'm not a reason, I'm not a debate | |
| And I swear that I'm no one's example | |
| I'm not a number, I'm not a crusade | |
| War is older than mankind | |
| But it's younger than grace | |
| Won't you bury me far from my uniform | |
| From the iron cross medals I would've worn | |
| From the statues that sisters and widows mourn | |
| From the newspaper clippin's and microform | |
| From Geneva, The Hague and Nuremberg | |
| From the sex of this world that I'll no longer taste | |
| Won't you bury me far from my uniform | |
| So God might remember my face | |
| I know God will remember my face | |
| Merciful God, please remember my face |
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