White Boots Marching in a Yellow Land

Red, blow the bugles of the dawn
Tie their hands behind their back and question through the night
And never turn your back if the battle turns the tide

We're fighting in a war, we lost before the war began

At the white boots marching in a yellow land
The morning has arrived, you must be gone
For the colors of a civil war are louder than commands
Raw recruits are lining up like coffins in a cage
And the chocolate in the children's eyes will never understand
And the lost patrol chase their chartered souls

We're the white boots marching in a yellow land
Red, blow the bugles of the dawn
Blow them from the forest and burn them from your sight
But when the firing squad is ready, they'll be spitting where they stand
The comic and the beauty queen are dancing on the stage
And the lost patrol chase their chartered souls
When you're white boots marching in a yellow land
Like cold whores following tired armies
When you're white boots marching in a yellow land
The morning has arrived, you must be gone

Train them well, the men who will be fighting by your side
Like cold whores following tired armies
And the lost patrol chase their chartered souls