The Christmas cards and greetings are arriving
across the shifty sands to the war
By the time I get to read them she'll be rising
to a 50/50 chance and nothing more
Through the sleet and drizzle
you can hear the sounds of soldiers
The Kalashnikov and splutter
on a sunny day
From the East of middle
to the North and South of nowhere
People earn their bread and butter
in some funny ways
Meanwhile . .
In the corridors of power
where the talks are in full swing
if you can't say it with flowers
then don't say anything
Because I want to see my children
grow up into healthy human beings
I want to see them walking, running.
playing, laughing and singing
In the corridors of power
where the talks are in full swing
if you can't say it with flowers
then don't say anything
I'm just outside the home of Christmas now
and I'm dying
A across the shifty sands there's blood and guts
By the time I get to Jesus she'll still be crying
I guess a 50/50 chance wasn't good enough
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