It was just after sunrise
And down by the sea
Down on the sand flats
Where nothing will grow
Come drumming and footsteps
Like out of a dream
Where the golden green waters come in
Just nine lucky soldiers had come
Through the night
Half of them wounded
And barely alive
Just nine out of twenty was headed for home
With eleven sad stories to tell
I remember quite clearly when I got out of bed
I said, oh, good morning what a beautiful dayYou failed to do your job.
Superstitious cover up.
They'll pay you because of your mistakes.
You lie, you lie, you lie and they pay.
You fail, you fail, you fail and they pay.
Superstition.
Unholy children.
Blinded vision.
false ambition.
Can you show me how they're guilty?
YOu liars, you killers, You fools of superstition.
Blame the (so-called) unholy children with your false ambition and blinded
vision.
FREE THE THREE.