White Boots Marching In A Yellow Land
EC#mA
The pilots playing poker in the cockpit of the plan
C#mAF#
The casualties arriving like the dropping of the rai
EC#mA
And a mountain of machinery will fall before a ma
EG#mAB
When you're white boots marching in a yellow lan
It's written in the ashes of the village towns we bur
It's written in the empty bed of the fathers unreturne
And the chocolate in the childrens eyes will never understan
When you're white boots marching in a yellow lan
C#
Red blow the bugles of the daw
The morning has arrived you must be gon
A
And the lost patrol chase their chartered(*) soul
E
Like cold/old(?) whores following tired armie
Train them well, the men who will be fighting by your sid
And never turn your back if the battle turns the tid
For the colours of a civil war are louder than command
When you're white boots marching in a yellow lan
Blow them from the forest and burn them from your sigh
Tie their hands behind their back and question through the nigh
But when the firing squad is ready they'll be spitting where they stan
At the white boots marching in a yellow lan
Red blow the bugles of the daw
The morning has arrived you must be gon
And the lost patrol chase their chartered soul
Like cold whores following tired armie
The comic and the beauty queen are dancing on the stag
Raw recruits are lining up like coffins in a cag
We're fighting in a war we lost before the war bega
We're the white boots marching in a yellow lan
And the lost patrol chase their chartered soul
like cold whores following tired armies
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