Do I hear what I think I'm hearing
|
do I see the signs I think I see
|
or is this just fantasy
|
is it true that the beast is waking
|
stirring in his restless sleep tonight
|
in the pale moonlight
|
in the grip of this cold December
|
you and I have reason to remember
|
|
Soldiers write the songs
|
that soldiers sing
|
the songs that you and I don't sing
|
they blow their horns
|
and march along
|
they drum their drums
|
and look so strong
|
you'd think that nothing
|
in the world was wrong
|
soldiers write the songs
|
that soldiers sing
|
the songs that you and I won't sing
|
let's not look the other way
|
taking a chance
|
'cause if the bugler starts to play
|
we too must dance
|
|
What's that sound
|
what's that dreadful rumble
|
won't somebody tell me what I hear
|
in the distance but drawing near
|
is it only a storm approaching
|
all that thunder and the blinding light
|
in the winter night
|
in the grip of this cold December
|
you and I have reason to remember
|
|
Soldiers write the songs
|
that soldiers sing
|
the songs that you and I don't sing
|
they blow their horns
|
and march along
|
they drum their drums
|
and look so strong
|
you'd think that nothing
|
in the world was wrong
|
soldiers write the songs
|
that soldiers sing
|
the songs that you and I won't sing
|
let's not look the other way
|
taking a chance
|
'cause if the bugler starts to play
|
we too must dance
|
|
-----------------
|
Soldiers
|
ABBA |