i ask the question who has died for me?
on whose dead bones do my living ones stand?
whose fingers now inhabit my live hand?
and do i really want to look and see?
we call ourselves the happy ones and free
our enemies are but a savage band
we need to keep them from our noble land
while guarding silence on each abductee
let every answer make the matter clear
those folk are not part of some complex game
and we are not the innocents we seem
our lies have clouded what was once clean air
and put our enemies themselves to shame
but we treat the whole thing as just a dream