The Gunners lonely dream in the solemn field

after the service 
when you're walking slowly to the car

and the silver in her hair 
shines in the cold november air

you hear the tolling bell
and touch the silk in your lapel

and as the tear drops rise to meet the comfort of the band

you take her frail hand
and hold on to the dream 


a place to stay
enough to eat
somewhere old heroes shuffle safely down the street

where you can speak out loud
about your doubts and fears

and what's more 
no-one ever disappears
you never hear their standard issue kicking in your door

you can relax 
on both sides of the tracks

and maniacs 
don't blow holes 
in bandsmen by remote control

and everyone 
has recourse to the law


and no-one kills the children anymore