There’s a war coming but not like the last
The pigeons are painted like doves for a laugh
Everyone’s frightened but nobody cares
The zealots are moving, they’re marching in pairs

They’re marching for freedom, marching for fun
Marching their boots to the ruin of a drum
Marching to motivate, marching in rhyme
And the whole damned world is marching in time

There’s a war coming just over the hill
It’s almost upon us, but lies very still