Warchild
Cranberries
To the Faithful Departed
Warchild
Who will save the warchild baby
Who controls the key?
The web we weave is thick and sordid
Fine by me
At times of war, we're all losers
There's no victory
We shoot and kill and kill your lover
Fine by me
Warchild, victim of political pride
Plant the seed, territorial greed
Mind the warchild, we should mind the warchild
I spent last winter in New York and came upon a man
He was sleeping on the streets and homeless
He said 'I fought in Vietnam'
Beneath his shirt he wore his mark, he bore the mark of pride
A two inch deep incision, carved into his side
Warchild, victim of political pride
Plant the seed, terrirtorial greed