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• Artiste: Big Fish
• Titre: Fortunes Of War
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Rosebuds scattered across the lawn like the squares at WaterlooWith bayonets of thorns repelling small children in search of lost tennis ballsImaginary cannonballs that were fired at the legs of galloping cavalryResting their dreams in the shade of the apple treesToy soldiers drunk on warm lemonadeAnd the children dream of glory and fortunes of warSafe in bed with stories of fortunes of war, fortunes of warAs the sun sets low on these playing fieldsAn army returns bearing swords and shields -Dustbin lids and raspberry canes.They'll live to fight another dayFor warrior's medals - milk bottle topsBattle flags fashioned from mother's old table clothsBright colours run in the summer rainSometimes when they fall they will pretendThat their hankie is a bandage to stop the bleedingAnd imagine city streets and desert storms and foreign fieldsThere's bullets flying, these are the fortunes of warI heard a wheelchair whisper across a stale, stagnant gymnasiumTrailing an ivy league jacket like a matadorThrough the jitterbug steps of the night before,I followed him down to the church parade.Where he makes his peace every armistice day,I watched him fade away, melt in the autumn rain.For sometimes when they fall they can't pretendThat the hankie is a bandage they can't stop the bleedingThey're out in city streets andd esert storms or foreign fieldsWith bullets flying, these are the fortunes of war.While their children dream of glory and fortunes of war,Safe in bed with stories and fortunes of war,Of uniforms and glory, fortunes of war, fortunes of war