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Boots
Bootless young soldiers, Deserving headstones: Making molehills of mountains; Dream not again! O, how you used to shoot straight from the hip; Risking your neck... Footloose tin soldiers, Milling out milestones; Memorials by the millions. Wishing to holler! O, how you used to hate ties like iron collars Ringing your neck. Guiltless toy soldiers, Marching like marionettes, Treading the thread without a net; Ringing black curtains down. O, how you used to stride into the night Brightly out of step... God bless us, foot soldiers When the whims of some god Our thirsting throats caress, We will dance! We will dance! O, how we will dance like Shiva and the Rest! With our boots on."Three little devils, All dressed in red, |
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