White Boots Marching in a Yellow Land

For the colors of a civil war are louder than commands
And the chocolate in the children's eyes will never understand

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

When you're white boots marching in a yellow land
And the lost patrol chase their chartered souls

At the white boots marching in a yellow land
When you're white boots marching in a yellow land

Raw recruits are lining up like coffins in a cage
And never turn your back if the battle turns the tide

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