I’m sick of you and me
The way we think
The way we’ve come to be
Talking at parties
Spewing all that we know
Eating cocktail weenies
From paper plates
That bend and wobble so
We’re experts on fighting
Isn’t it a shame
Sending our children off
To be killed or maimed
How are your sons?
What about your daughter?
You send them off to be cannon fodder?
Have you tried the meatballs?
The coleslaw’s good too
I hear the broccoli and carrots
Are also good for you
The house is very nice
Freshly decorated I hear
No, I’ve never been to Calais
In the fall of the year
I really must be going
The hour is getting late
The war will continue
As it festers with our fate.