War, and nothing is going on I go into town to beg for cigarettes I've always known your scent, but you've never been closer It's cold in the morning, you put my underwear on Your joy at the packets of humanitarian aid makes me happy and sad at the same time And I ask myself where on earth do you find us coffee every night I was young and I didn't know that d**h's something a lot more common than it seems So plain that anything you say about it sounds trite