For whom do the bells toll
When sentenced to die
The stuttering rifles

Will stifle the cry
The monstrous anger
The fear's rapid rattle

A desert inferno
Kids dying like cattle
Don't tell me

We're not prepared
I've seen today's marine
He's eighteen and he's eager

He can be quite mean
No mock'ries for them
No prayers or bells

The demented choirs
The wailing of shells
The boys holding candles

On untraveled roads
The fear spreads like fire
As shrapnel explodes

I think it's wrong
To conscript our youth
Against their will

When plenty of our citizenry
Really like to kill
What sign posts will lead

To armageddon's fires
What bugles will call them
From crowded grey shires

The women sit quiet
With death on their minds
A slow dusk descending

The drawing of blinds
Make the hunters all line up
It's their idea of fun

And let those be forgiven
Who never owned a gun
Was it him or me

Or the wailing of the dead
The laughing soldiers
Cast their lots

And you can cut the dread