I was fallen dead in battle,
must have been Tuesday,
I don’t know the date.
I gave everything everyone asked for,
But I say where I’ll be laid.
The many dead of my comrades,
All look the same in this place.
Won’t you bury me far from my uniform,
So God might remember my face.
Do not bother with Congress,
With the rich,
Or with the rest.
I fought their battles in this world,
But I will not fight for them in the next.
Do not find me justice,
Just find me a grave.
And then bury me far from my uniform,
So that God might remember my face.
Oh my mother,
You’ll weep and you’ll crumble,
Take me out of your dreams that I’m in.
I can’t take another what’s not,
I’m sick to hear what could have been.
I’ll not return to your table,
So don’t save me a place.
Just bury me far from my uniform,
So God might remember my face
I’m not a cause, not a Christ, not a ransom.
I’m not a reason, I’m not a debate.
And I swear that I’m no one’s example.
I’m not a number,
I’m not a crusade.
War is older than mankind,
But it’s younger than grace.
Won’t you bury me far from my uniform?
From the iron cross medals I would have worn.
From the statues that sisters and widows mourn.
From the newspaper clippings and microform,
From Geneva, the Hague and Nuremberg
From the sex of this world that I’ll no longer taste.
Won’t you bury me far from my uniform?
So God might remember my face.
I know God will remember my face.
Merciful God, please remember my face.
must have been Tuesday,
I don’t know the date.
I gave everything everyone asked for,
But I say where I’ll be laid.
The many dead of my comrades,
All look the same in this place.
Won’t you bury me far from my uniform,
So God might remember my face.
Do not bother with Congress,
With the rich,
Or with the rest.
I fought their battles in this world,
But I will not fight for them in the next.
Do not find me justice,
Just find me a grave.
And then bury me far from my uniform,
So that God might remember my face.
Oh my mother,
You’ll weep and you’ll crumble,
Take me out of your dreams that I’m in.
I can’t take another what’s not,
I’m sick to hear what could have been.
I’ll not return to your table,
So don’t save me a place.
Just bury me far from my uniform,
So God might remember my face
I’m not a cause, not a Christ, not a ransom.
I’m not a reason, I’m not a debate.
And I swear that I’m no one’s example.
I’m not a number,
I’m not a crusade.
War is older than mankind,
But it’s younger than grace.
Won’t you bury me far from my uniform?
From the iron cross medals I would have worn.
From the statues that sisters and widows mourn.
From the newspaper clippings and microform,
From Geneva, the Hague and Nuremberg
From the sex of this world that I’ll no longer taste.
Won’t you bury me far from my uniform?
So God might remember my face.
I know God will remember my face.
Merciful God, please remember my face.
envoyé par Bartleby - 17/1/2012 - 14:17
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Album “Messenger”