Current 93

War
In a foreign town
In a foreign land
Reaping time had come
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
Crushed, crushed, crushed
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