War 
In a foreign town 

In a foreign land  

Reaping time [bad word]  

In fields of swaying rape  

It could not happen here  

Pushed to one side with the flick of a wrist  

Out of sight  

And out of mind  

Fallng back in fields of rape  

In yellow heads of blossom  

Mothers babies bleeding  

You stand there laughing  

Unquestioning unconfronting  

Poetic lines on the art of dying  

Falling back in fields of rape  

That was the way  

Those were the horrors  

As daddy went a-reaping  

In nodding heads of rape  

No mark on your spotless conscience  

No blemish on your immaculate body  

Untouched by sight or sound of misery  

Close the eyes  

Shift the responsibility  

It was not you  

It was not you  

Falling back in fields of rape  

My children  

Falling back in fields of rape  

Here we go round the mulberry bush  

The mulberry bush  

The mulberry bush  

Here we go round the mulberry bush  

On a cold and frosty morning  

Falling back in fields of rape  

My children  

 [bad word]  [bad word]  [bad word]  

In mud and wars  

Mother children bleeding  

You stand there laughing  

Falling back in fields of rape 

Never eating  

Bags of bones dying quietly  

Homeless  

Drinking foul water  

Sorting garbage  

With flies in heat  

Raped  

Axed  

Burned with acid  

Locked away for thirty years  

Thrown out of a helicopter  

Forced to labour endlessly  

Castrated  

Burned alive  

Killed so easily by firing squads 

In a foreign town  

In a foreign land  

Reaping time [bad word]  

They're falling back  

In fields of rape  

In fields of rape  

They're falling back  

In fields of rape  

My love  

And this is our way  

And these are the horrors  

As we go a-reaping  

They're falling back  

In fields of rape  

In fields of rape  

They're falling back  

In fields of rape  

My darling  

And [bad word]  [bad word]  [bad word]  

In mud and wars  

Still you stand there laughing  

They're falling back in fields of rape  

In fields of rape they're falling back  

My lovers  

In fields of rape the ravens  

Descend. the yellow beak slashes  

Corn, the sickles are sharpened  

And the cattle bleed, and reaping  

Time [bad word]  our voices grow  

Shriller, and our eyes glitter, but  

In this last summer the Rapture  

Descends, and father's mask has  

Turned to grey, and mother's  

 [bad word] are leper white, and  

Children's laughter cracks, and  

Reaping time [bad word]  body and  

Blood, body and blood, body and  

Blood, body and mud, body and  

Blood, body and mud, and  

Christ's eyes, I am weary, and  

Christ's eyes, I want to melt  

Bleeding Jesus, be quick, be quick  

(And what would you do, my gentlest 

One...?)  

Falling back in fields of rape