Old man do war
They do it well
Feeling maps
With bunkered hands
Foreign fields
It's all they can
Through flaccid nights
These warriors
Seldom sleeps
Armoured vests
Smart suits
Smiles fixed
Like Bayonets
From the hideaways
Heroic memo
Fire-Fire lives
On Foreign fields
In snug cathedrals
Under skeletal flags
They pray for peace
And body bags