He left his home where is clear blue sky
And the wife and mother he kissed goodbuy
And to his son he is bigger than life
Like he's every [bad word] 

Maybe I just don't see
Why the liberty tree
Has to feed on the dead

As the cover took power and greed
Hope is all full of lead
Hope full of lead

 [bad word]  [bad word] and say a prayer for the marching man
With the world on his shoulders and a gun in his hand
All the mud is blood red from his brothers in the sand
All this [bad word] war and I’ll never understand why…

And back at home he is a weighed that paid
Just a number if he stumbles and fails
nameless one in a bad chess game
Every battle is another round play

Maybe I just don't need
Overall that conceit
That the god will die here

In the dreams I have seen 
The world that believes 
We can stand up as one

 [bad word]  [bad word] and say a prayer for the marching man
With the world on his shoulders and a gun in his hand
All the mud is blood red from his brothers in the sand
All this [bad word] war and i’ll never understand why…

They ease a gun and the time [bad word] 
For the son to hear his father's call
His wife and mother are now left alone
As they pray that not another one falls

 [bad word]  [bad word] and say a prayer for the marching man
With the world on his shoulders and a gun in his hand
All the mud is blood red from his brothers in the sand
All this [bad word] war and i’ll never understand why…