White Boots Marching In A Yellow Land Lyrics - A Hero Of The Game - Phil Ochs

The pilot's playing poker in the cockpit of the plane 

The casualties are rising like the dropping of rain 

And the mountain of machinery will fall before a man 

When your white boots marching in a yellow land 

It's written in the ashes of the village towns we burn 

It's written in the empty bed of the fathers unreturned 

And the chocolate in the children's eyes will never understand 

When you're white boots marching in a yellow land 

Red, blow the bugles of the dawn 

The morning has arrived, you must be gone 

And the lost patrol chase their chartered souls 

Like cold whores following tired armies 

Train them well, the men who will be fighting by your side 

And never turn your back if the battle turns the tide 

For the colors of a civil war are louder than commands 

When you're white boots marching in a yellow land 

Blow them from the forest and burn them from your sight 

Tie their hands behind their back and question through the night 

But when the firing squad is ready, they'll be spitting where they stand 

At the white boots marching in a yellow land 

Red, blow the bugles of the dawn 

The morning has arrived, you must be gone 

And the lost patrol chase their chartered souls 

Like cold whores following tired armies 

The comic and the beauty queen are dancing on the stage 

Raw recruits are lining up like coffins in a cage 

We're fighting in a war, we lost before the war began 

We're the white boots marching in a yellow land 

And the lost patrol chase their chartered souls 

Like cold whores following tired armies