Verse 1 The generals march in polished boots, With medals shining bright, They promise tanks and mighty guns, And victory overnight. But somewhere in a Ukraine field, A rusty tank dies, While someone counts the missing men, And someone else counts lies. Chorus Oh, march on, march on, General, With your maps upon the wall, You bought yourself a mercedes car, While the soldiers have nothing at all. The tanks are old, the radios fail, The boots fall off their feet, And mothers cry beside the door For sons who won't come home again. Verse 2 The factory made a hundred tanks, Or so the papers say, But half were lost to someone's pocket Before they rolled away. A colonel has a country house, A general has three, And somewhere in a barracks There's no food for Company Three. Chorus Oh, march on, march on, General, With your maps upon the wall, You bought yourself a mercedes car, While the soldiers have nothing at all. The tanks are old, the radios fail, The boots fall off their feet, And mothers cry beside the door For sons who won't come home again. Bridge A mother lights a candle, And whispers her child's name, While men behind their desks insist That everything's the same. Another flag, another speech, Another proud parade, Another family left to ask, “Why was my son betrayed?” Verse 3 The newest tank has armour plates, And cages made of steel, But no amount of painted metal Can hide the way they perform The generals blame the weather, The soldiers blame the gun, The politicians blame the enemy— But mothers know the truth. Final Chorus So march on, march on, General, With your medals and your lies, You can polish every car that you own, But you can't polish grieving eyes. The flags may wave, the speeches roar, The band may play again, But every mother knows the cost When generals gamble with their soldiers lives Outro The parade will end at sunset, The generals will disappear, But mothers keep the photographs Of sons who aren't here. And somewhere underneath the medals, Beneath the flags and guns, There lies the oldest tragedy— Corrupt politicians who kill a mothers sons.
