The Christmas cards and greetings are arriving across the shifty sands to the wall By the time I get to read them she'll be rising to a fifty/fifty chance and nothing more WAR! Through the sleet and drizzle you can hear the sound of soldiers The Kalashnikov and splutter on a sunny day from the east and middle to the north and south and nowhere people earn their bread and butter in some funny ways WAR! Meanwhile... In the corridors of power where the talks are in full swing if you can't say it with flowers than don't say anything I want to see my children grow up in to healthy human beings I wanna see them walking, running playing, laughing, and singing WAR! In the corridors of power where the talks are in full swing if you can't say it with flowers than don't say anything I'm just outside the home of Christmas now and I'm dying all across the shifty sands 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