White Boots Marching In A Yellow Land - Eric Andersen

And the chocolate in the children’s eyes will never understand

When you’re white boots marching in a yellow land

Red, blow the bugles of the dawn

The morning has arrived, you must be gone

And the lost patrol chase their chartered souls

Like cold whores following tired armies

Train them well, the men who will be fighting by your side

And never turn your back if the battle turns the tide

For the colors of a civil war are louder than commands

When you’re white boots marching in a yellow land

Blow them from the forest and burn them from your sight

Tie their hands behind their back and question through the night

But when the firing squad is ready

They’ll be spitting where they stand

At the white boots marching in a yellow land

Red, blow the bugles of the dawn

The morning has arrived, you must be gone

And the lost patrol chase their chartered souls

Like cold whores following tired armies

The comic and the beauty queen are dancing on the stage

Raw recruits are lining up like coffins in a cage

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

We’re the white boots marching in a yellow land

And the lost patrol chase their chartered souls

Like cold whores following tired armies