inspired by a quote from Erasmus of Rotterdam, humanist philosopher of the Reformation era.

Lyrics

Growing up in an uneasy time, with blue stars on the windows
Some sons had enlisted, others had to go
Some others said their conscience wouldn't let them carry a gun
Still others left for Canada and were soon forgotten

Looking for some guidance from the fathers of the town
The doctor said, "just bomb 'em to hell", the preacher said, "let's pray."
Another standing silently, torn by memory
He shook his head and shuddered, mumbling he said,

"These eyes of mine have seen
what these lips can never tell
the bloodrush of the battle
the agonies of hell--

"War is sweet
to those who never taste it
Life is cheap
when it ain't yours you're wastin'."

Everyday he threw the papers, read headlines in the rain
He opened up the magazines, saw photos of the slain
Each night the news at six-o'clock brought pictures of pain
The flag had been unfurled, but with wounded blood was stained

Images of shame, confusion and blame
Heroes fighting, heroes falling, heroes marching to bring them home.
Hawks and doves in battle, wherever people meet
Ten thousand, thousand voices chanting in the streets: