As the daylight starts to fade —
Twisting shadows all around.
Dead soldiers on parade —
The ghosts of Porton Down.
Hidden from the public eye, «A cause for regret»
Wrote the Brigadier-General with the chemistry set.
«Can’t be more specific — the matter’s confidential,
Links with other incidents are just coincidental.»
In jeopardy — welcome to the lion’s den,
We skate on thin ice — dice with death.
While young boys drown in seas of poison —
We are the plagiarists of breath.
We go left right left right left —
They’re left in the right again.
We go right left right left right —
We’ve no rights left anymore.
Military science picking the locks
Of a 20th Century Pandora’s box.
A father tells a son,
«The army makes a man of you.»
Now all vital signs are gone —
Another joins the countless few.
Mentioned in dispatches — they tell the same old story,
‘Dulce et decorum est pro patria mori,»
They listened to him screaming —
They sat and watched him writhe,
Taking turns observing as his body burns alive.
Rifles firing at the sky —
As the «Last Post» starts to play.
Young soldiers often die —
And the truth gets filed away.
Thomas Atkins (Private 20967),
Now reports for duty —
He’s been posted up to heaven.
Enlisted by conscription — a participant unwilling.
Who didn’t plan to give his life for taking the «King’s Shilling».
In jeopardy — welcome to the lion’s den,
We skate on thin ice — dice with death,
While young boys drown in seas of poison —
We are the plagiarists of breath.