War was a young mans game
That's what they all said
All be home for Christmas
No mention of maybe being dead.
Just eighteen when you took me
Ambitions and dreams unspoken,
Three years later you spat me out
Old too young, very nearly broken.
You put me through sheer hell
In defence of your dubious cause,
Tried to tell me it was for a future
But it wasn't for mine, it was yours.
Your pointing finger accused:
My country needed me you said,
Just to step into the line to take
Place of one of those so many dead.
You laughed about the Butcher's Bill
As the losses grew and grew,
Said we were fighting for a cause
But what it was nobody knew.
And when the fighting was over
And you finally let us free
You expected us to return to
Just the way things used to be.
Three years of my life I gave
And now I'm battered and broken
And all those young mans dream
Still haven't really been spoken.
And you pass me on the street
Without even a sideways glance
Just another broken beggar
Who never stood a chance.
The horror of the trenches
Fill my dreams with fright
Nobody here understands
Why I scream at night.
Fritz and me are brothers now
Each refused any helping hand.
I fought for God, King and Country
Fritz for God and Fatherland.
And each God sat in no mans land
Watching the chaos and despair
Was it with contempt or couldn't
It be bothered to show any care.
War was a young mans game
As we were so often told
They didn't bother to tell us about
Us being all too soon made old.
