Lyric provided by www.seekalyric.com |
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 fifty, fifty 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 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 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, all across the shifty sand there's blood and guts By the time I get to Jesus, she'll still be crying I guess a fifty, fifty chance wasn't good enough |