Listen
The sweet peals of moonlight-induced lovemaking on the streets tonight
Listen
The soft purr of motorbikes are ready to strike up the night alight
So don't tell me of your troubles, your emotional grief
Take in the sights, this is shore leave
Don't talk of true love, unscrew your frown
Enjoy the entertainments of nighttime town
Experience the red rooms, the green tables, the souvenirs
Make memories, haunting or fabled
The gallant mist of red blooded chivalry
Instilled in basic training
By standing in line today, you secure a place among the saints
Go get them, son, now your life begins
To die for your country does not win a war
To kill for your country is what wins a war
Don't tell your name, don't ask for hers
In this land of oysters, you are the world
The painless, plainness of military life
Resumes tomorrow night
If not for you, it would've been cholera, malaria
Or some eastern disease
Forget about it, son
A slap is all you need
We did it all, we've seen it all
And worse, much worse, son
The massacres of ages
Too many to recall
Limbs rendered birds, by the speed they flew off
A soup nothingness that once was your best friend
Motherless children and temptress widows
The wild, the useless, the dead, the untameable
Snivelling fuck, don't stain this street
Lucky I don't shoot you on the spot
Our bullets were made for men like you
The impotent idiots God forgot
Tonight you decide which corner takes residence
Which room looms forever in your mind
But now you're on your own
We don't need men like you
Tonight you decide which corner takes residence
Which room looms forever in your mind
But now you're on your own, we don't need men like you
Private Tristan Bongo, hereby discharged!
The sweet peals of moonlight-induced lovemaking on the streets tonight
Listen
The soft purr of motorbikes are ready to strike up the night alight
So don't tell me of your troubles, your emotional grief
Take in the sights, this is shore leave
Don't talk of true love, unscrew your frown
Enjoy the entertainments of nighttime town
Experience the red rooms, the green tables, the souvenirs
Make memories, haunting or fabled
The gallant mist of red blooded chivalry
Instilled in basic training
By standing in line today, you secure a place among the saints
Go get them, son, now your life begins
To die for your country does not win a war
To kill for your country is what wins a war
Don't tell your name, don't ask for hers
In this land of oysters, you are the world
The painless, plainness of military life
Resumes tomorrow night
If not for you, it would've been cholera, malaria
Or some eastern disease
Forget about it, son
A slap is all you need
We did it all, we've seen it all
And worse, much worse, son
The massacres of ages
Too many to recall
Limbs rendered birds, by the speed they flew off
A soup nothingness that once was your best friend
Motherless children and temptress widows
The wild, the useless, the dead, the untameable
Snivelling fuck, don't stain this street
Lucky I don't shoot you on the spot
Our bullets were made for men like you
The impotent idiots God forgot
Tonight you decide which corner takes residence
Which room looms forever in your mind
But now you're on your own
We don't need men like you
Tonight you decide which corner takes residence
Which room looms forever in your mind
But now you're on your own, we don't need men like you
Private Tristan Bongo, hereby discharged!
envoyé par Daniel Fuller - 14/7/2023 - 15:39
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The song opens by seeming to promote the carefree entertainments soldiers can enjoy during "shore leave," but then twists this by referring to the "red rooms" and "green tables," implying the brothels and gambling that serve as distractions from the grim reality of war.
The lyrics mock the idea that soldiers are gallant heroes, suggesting they are just naively following orders and propaganda about "securing a place among the saints." The line "To die for your country does not win a war / To kill for your country is what wins a war" criticizes the rhetoric used to convince young men to sacrifice themselves.
There are vivid descriptions of the gruesome casualties of war - "Limbs rendered birds, by the speed they flew off" and bodies turned to "soup nothingness." There are also references to the "massacres of ages" and the huge scale of senseless death caused by war.
The soldier Private Tristan Bongo is discharged in disgrace, with the lyrics emphasizing the military's lack of care for the individual lives destroyed by war. The song portrays the soldiers as dehumanized pawns manipulated by generals and politicians. Overall, the song provides a scathing depiction of war's brutality and futility.