Wayne Lostsoul - Not in my Name : https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pWKw_bBbZPo
Look at Billy in his uniform.
Always was his mother's pride.
He's been the head of the family,
ever since his daddy died.
Now he's marching to the rhythm of a different drum,
marching to the rhythm and the beat goes on.
It always seems to be the same,
young men seem to die in vain.
Marching to the rhythm of a different drum,
marching to the rhythm and the beat goes on.
It always seems to be the same,
young men die, but not in my name,
not in my name, please not in my name.
Look at Billy in his uniform.
Made the whole town so damn proud.
Could'nt get a job down at the factory.
Now his coffin parts this crowd.
And he's been marching to the rhythm of a different drum,
marching to the rhythm and the beat goes on.
It always seems to be the same,
young men seem to die in vain.
Marching to the rhythm of a different drum,
marching to the rhythm and the beat goes on.
It always seems to be the same,
young men die, but not in my name,
not in my name, please not in my name.
I saw my brother in his uniform.
Almost broke my mother's heart.
But there was nothing else in this small town hell.
He had to make a brand new start.
And now he's marching to the rhythm of a different drum,
marching to the rhythm and the beat goes on.
It always seems to be the same,
young men seem to die in vain.
Marching to the rhythm of a different drum,
marching to the rhythm and the beat goes on.
It always seems to be the same,
brothers die, but not in my name,
not in my name, please not in my name.
There were mothers holding babys.
There were fathers smoking fags.
And all the children lined the queyside.
They were waving paper flags.
Sailed away and they went to war,
never really knew what they were fighting for.
Sailed away and they went to war,
never really knew what they were serving for.
Sailed away and they went to war,
never really knew what they were killing for.
Sailed away and they went to war.
They never really knew what they were dying for.
Marching to the rhythm of a different drum,
marching to the rhythm and the beat goes on.
It always seems to be the same,
young men seem to die in vain.
Marching to the rhythm of a different drum,
marching to the rhythm and the beat goes on.
It always seems to be the same,
our children die, but not in my name,
not in my name, please not in my name.
