Texty písní John Vanderslice

John Vanderslice

I Miss The War

I wish the war was on,

I know this sounds strange to you.

I miss the war-time life,

Anything could happen then:

Around a corner, behind a door.

I miss the canon fire,

I miss the air strikes at night.

Down on the basement floor,

We held each other tight,

It rained plaster, it rained glass,

We held on for our life.

I wish the war was on,

I know this sounds strange to you.

My poor crippled con,

My sad one-legged Jew,

I see what it's done to you.

I wish the war was on,

We really worked together then.

Do you remember when

You held the horse, I slit his throat,

The blood ran, melting the snow?

When the meat was carved

The children screamed

And the women cheered.