For whom do the bells toll 
When sentenced to die 
The stuttering rifles 
Will stifle the cry 
The monstrous anger 
The fear's rapid rattle 
A desert inferno 
Kids dying like cattle 
Don't tell me 
We're not prepared 
I've seen today's marine 
He's eighteen and he's eager 
He can be quite mean 
No mock'ries for them 
No prayers or bells 
The demented choirs 
The wailing of shells 
The boys holding candles 
On untraveled roads 
The fear spreads like fire 
As shrapnel explodes 
I think it's wrong 
To conscript our youth 
Against their will 
When plenty of our citizenry 
Really like to kill 
What sign posts will lead 
To armageddon's fires 
What bugles will call them 
From crowded grey shires 
The women sit quiet 
With death on their minds 
A slow dusk descending 
The drawing of blinds 
Make the hunters all line up 
It's their idea of fun 
And let those be forgiven 
Who never owned a gun 
Was it him or me 
Or the wailing of the dead 
The laughing soldiers 
Cast their lots 
And you can cut the dread