You weep for your son's dying on a foreign field
so many  miles from home
And from your tear filled eyes
tears of hypocrisy run
For every bullet that hit your boys was
another dollar won
You were the executioner of your sons
Because it was you who sold the bullets and guns
For you I can hold sadness but also deep contempt
How many families are now in mourning
So that you can add to your bloodstained wealth