Going back to the home land,
Cuts and bruises and bloody hands,
Wives and children stand waiting,
But the coffin is belated,
The time has come for our leaders to speak,
The poor are puppets and there easy to beat,
March them out to the promised lands,
Its all part of their master plan.
War Britannia we're coming home tonight,
Washed up on our shores in blood and glory.
You feed them stories of honour and pride,
Forget to mention that your gonna die,
So if you don't get the picture,
Sgt. majors gonna fist ya,
Men in suits will decide your fate,
Over sherry and a dinner plate,
Go home to the wife and kids,
As the generals get another war fix.

ENVIAR CORREÇÕES