Blood On Their Hands Lyrics

The morning mist is rising,
A million rifles load,
While in some distant corner
A prince puts on his gold.
And the best dressed people in the world
Have blood on their hands.

The fields of France and Flanders
Are pounded into mud,
While emperors and leaders
Are polishing their studs.
And the best dressed people in the world
Have blood on their hands.

And at that chosen hour your idols make a feast.
How Tom and Jerry fight when they could still make peace.

A million dead and counting,
The sacrifice goes on,
While ministers in velvet
Like to wear their coat tails long.
And the best dressed people in the world
Have blood on their hands.

And in that chosen place your idols make a feast.
No more burnt offerings, instead let there be peace.