No, I never wanted much,
Never more than you could give with your touch.
It's such a sympathetic bruise, but not a permanent scar.
You've got these blood-thirsty angels rushing around your room.
I wonder what we could do; I wonder what we should do
When the terrible trumpets play that sad marching tune.
I wonder, when did we lose; I wonder, what did we lose?
No, I never felt brand new,
And I never expect to in this life.
These days I cower too much beneath the blanket above.
You've got these blood-thirsty angels rushing around your room.
I wonder what we could do; I wonder what we should do
When the terrible trumpets play that sad marching tune.
I wonder, when did we lose; I wonder, what did we lose?
That's what we do
When we lose.