To win the old man’s wars for him good young men have to die
And why some grow less tolerant with age I often wonder why?
For one in a position of great power he doesn’t seem wise at all
And between himself and common sense he’s built this huge brick wall
The World is ruled by ageing men and they don’t mellow with age
They talk of waging war and death and against peace they rage.
For one close to three score and ten he is not a rock of sense
He spends billions on bombs and guns and fighter planes in his budget on defence
He and his family and his wealthy mates are living the high life
Whilst in the slums the poor grow poor and poverty is rife.
At his disposal he has great power and war he’s threatening to wage
Some men grow old but sad to say they never come of age
And there’s no fool like an old fool or so it has been said
And the ageing leader who wages war will honour his young war dead.