War Child

The wind is on the river and the tide has turned too late, So we're sailing for another shore where some other ladies wait. To throw us silken whispers: catch us by the anchor chains, But we all laugh so politely and we sail on just the same For Quee

who will save the war child baby who controls the keys the web we weave is thick and sordid fine by me at times of war we're all the losers there's no victory we'll shoot to kill, and kill your lover fine by me war child victim of political pride pla